Fight For Your Life
by JabberjayHeart
Summary: "On the one-hundred and twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their soldiers were but children, all tributes will reaped from pools of eighteen-year-olds only." Welcome to the 125th Hunger Games!
1. Bad Blood Part One

**Bad Blood Part One.**

_So be cool and believe, in the things you haven't learned._

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**Fight For Your Life - The 125th Hunger Games.**

**Son of the President, Theodore Snow.**

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I take the prized seat, glancing around at my friends. I know what the question will be. It's always the same, every precious year that nobody understands. With the Quarter Quell coming up next, I can imagine the anticipation has set their tiny brains abuzz.

"Theodore," Ruben Crook smiles, watching me pick up the piece of fine china. "Do you have anything to share for us?"

"Not that you shouldn't already know," I mumble against the porcelain. "You could always ask your parents, just like I did mine."

"You know that's impossible when it comes to Quarter Quells, Teddy," Castella Valentine - daughter of Hugo Valentine, Head of Weapons - winks. "Our parents are not allowed to tell us. But, you can. I doubt your Mother will behead you if you spill just the slight details."

"Indeed," Ruben finishes. "A little tip for sponsor benefits wouldn't go amiss."

"Why would you need to think about sponsors now?" I deadpan. "You haven't even met the tributes."

"But the Quarter Quell rules affect tribute selection, does it or does it not?" Castella knows the answer, so I have no idea why she's playing dumb, unless she truly is. When I don't answer, she smirks. "Precisely. I think it's important, as friends, that we all share our knowledge, otherwise this secret society is pointless."

I supress a laugh. "Secret society? Really, Castella?"

She glares. Of course, Castella would be stupid enough to name us that. We're no society nor in secret, though the others need to be more careful than I. We are, in fact, just a club. Like a book club or even sporting. We gather, drink tea and coffee, eat cakes and cookies and share the detail and sordid secrets we've learned about the hierachy of important, Capitol figures. Castella was always dramatic... and an idiot. That's why she wasn't selected President of the club.

"Theodore," Ruben says again. "Don't aggrivate her. She's learned some very stunning news."

"Oh yes?" I look at her. "Have you finally realised that your father adopted you?"

"No," she hisses, and Lumara Merwin giggles against her cookie. "But yes, we're already established that my father used a sperm donor to get me, yes yes, highly amusing," she rolls her eyes. "No, I found out that Braquen Fienze has just been arrested by Capitol officials."

Really? Braquen Fienze is as corrupt as they come, selling his sordid medicine underneath the noses of the smartest people in Panem, all the while acting famously as part of my Mother's workers. "And?" I deadpan again. "Braquen is of no relation to you. I can't see how this information has turned your stomach, Castella."

Her eyes dart at me. "Braquen was apparently having an affair with my father, if you must know."

I can barely contain my laughter, even almost choking on a butternut cookie. "Well," I try and breathe carefully. "It's not like I didn't see that coming whatsoever. Everyone knows your father is gay."

"But his... "boyfriend"..." she struggles to continue. "Is a well-known drug dealer. It's going to break my father when he finds out."

And, that's our purpose. To talk and discuss the current going-ons within the Capitol. Sometimes, we discuss politics, such as how Pomfrey Patter was planning to run for presidency before mysteriously disappearing. I, of course, heard the screams coming from the basement but chose to ignore them. He had, after all, slandered my Mother into a corner. Sometimes, we even discuss the districts, like how District One is clearly the best district ever, and how District Twelve should've been bombed alongside their Thirteen counterpart.

But, when the Games happen, our favourite discussion is the tributes. It can get a little out-of-hand - one day, Castella wore a shirt that had Oxford Altai's picture on it, just before he was crowned Victor four years ago - and sometimes, the debate is endless. We've been doing this since we were younger, so we know the score pretty well.

"I have nothing of importance," Ruben shares with us again, his burgundy hair being a constant distraction. His mother, Lenore Crook, constantly dyes it ridiculously colours. "Lumara and Leonard?"

Both of the twins shake their head, one after the other, proving their inability of being anything but useless. Honestly, I don't know why they're here. Their father might be the Head of Muttations, but his genius has lacked in recent years, so in all honesty, Mother should just fire him. Then we can rid Lumara and Leonard from the group. I glance at Castella as she tries to daintily nibble on an oatmeal cookie. She's next, the wretched girl.

"Right," Ruben sighs. "What about you, Jensen?"

Jensen Arkham smirks. "My father and uncle would murder me if I told anything, so my lips are sealed."

I sit up straighter. "What do you know?" I say accusingly, glaring at the shorter boy. Compared to the others, me and Jensen are the same age, with Ruben and Castella as older, and Lumara and Leonard being younger. "You're bluffing." I declare.

"Hardly," he scoffs. "My father is Head Gamemaker, genius. I've seen them in his study."

"So he hasn't indirectly told you," I decide. "So, tell us what you know. I'm practically shaking with anticipation," I'm not really. "Come on."

Jensen stands, clearing his throat dramatically. I roll my eyes; he's worse than Castella, and I didn't think that was possible. He smirks and straightens out his bowtie. "On the one-hundred and twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their soldiers were but children, all tributes will reaped from pools of eighteen-year-olds only." he recites, and my mouth drops.

"Wh..." Castella goes to ask, but instantly stops.

"I read the slip," Jensen rolls his eyes. "Honestly, I thought you'd all be more wiser than this. Well, there you go," he sits down. "The pointless Quell rules. Absolute nonsense."

"Hardly." I defend my Mother's choice, knowing the whole reasoning behind it. I place the china cup onto the table, carefully watching Jensen's face for a reply.

"Why would you think that?" Lumara speaks up, pink hair cascading over her face. "I mean, Jensen says it and it doesn't sound all too interest..." she trails off, before Leonard nudges her. "I mean, I just think that it's... lacklustre."

"I guess this means a debate, does it not?" Ruben grins wickedly. "I mean, Theodore can argue his point and Jensen can defend is. Besides," he looks at me and then the twins. "I believe that Lumara might have a point. It does seem very flat compared to other years."

They're all moronic if they haven't understood it. Back during the Dark Days, the districts were that desperate and pushed into a corner, that many children took hold of the guns and made up the firing squad. The districts wanted freedom and many innocent children paid the tough price. This... this is poetic justice, as my Mother called it. Besides, I am still above them all, and like with every debate before, I'll win it.

"So who will begin?" Castella claps.

I raise my hand. "Allow me to cleanse your tiny minds."

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**This is the fifth instalment to the EsmeraldaVerse. If you are unfamiliar as to why we are at this stage, please look on my profile at the EsmeraldaVerse prologue to understand. If you want, there's a blog for the EsmeraldaVerse Victors called Collection of the Damned, also on my profile (as well as a one-shot series for the Victors).**

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**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

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**Thank you to the great Teddy for being the inspiration to Esmeralda's megalomaniac child. **

**Don't worry if you don't understand their conversation, you aren't really meant to... it's many upon many hints to what will happen over the next few SYOTs and this arena I have planned for this Quell xD**

**The rule this year is simple: all tributes must be 18 years old. Nothing fancy, because my arena plays the greatest part, like with Blood Thicker Than Water.**

**If you haven't sent your form in early for queries or whatnot, then please, do so now. The collection of them all will begin! All the spots have been filled for quite some time now, so please, don't send in characters. You'll have to wait until next time! If you could drop me a review on this chapter, I'll love you forever.**


	2. Bad Blood Part Two

**Bad Blood Part Two.**

_So be cool and believe, in the things you haven't learned._

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**Fight For Your Life - The 125th Hunger Games.**

**Son of the President, Theodore Snow.**

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They each stare at me with wide eyes as I begin. For dramatic affect - the best way I know how - I rise, just like Jensen before me.

"My Mother had a cunning idea. During the Dark Days, the districts were cornered. They couldn't fight anymore, with men falling at each and every chance," I rotate, looking at Lumara and Leonard. "So, the districts began to send in children. The only point of the Hunger Games is to punish a generation - and future generations - that were willing to kill their children. If they didn't mind their children dying for freedom, then why should they mind if they died because they failed?" I smirk. "That was the idea behind the Hunger Games, and the idea behind the Quarter Quell."

"Lies," Jensen glowers. "The Hunger Games were created to install a sense of power, not because they used child soldiers," he rolls his eyes. "We learned that in Basic History, genius."

"That's what they want you to believe," I counter. "How do we not know that the children being made into tributes is not to continue to punish districts who basically did the same?"

There's a tense pause, and Lumara pushes stray hairs from her eyes. "You mean... because they used child soldiers that died, the Hunger Games carries the tradition?"

"Basically," I smile, Lumara instantly retreating into her specially-created bubble. "I mean, if you think about it, it makes sense. If they were willing to lose their children, it'd be ironic if the Hunger Games done just that. They were using tributes before the idea of the Hunger Games came into fruitition."

Jensen stands abruptly, his face snarled. Ruben follows, placing his hand onto Jensen's shoulder. "You can't prove that evidence," he hisses. "What makes you think you're so right? If history has taught us anything, it's that the Hunger Games installs hope, and that hope is a powerful emotion to give, but also controllable."

I cross my arms and continue to beam. "I'm the President's son, you imbecile. My family has been in control for as long as the Hunger Games have been around. Do you think that a secret could be so deeply hidden within a vast family tree? That was the idea when my Great-Grandfather was in charge. How do you know my Mother doesn't have other reasons for carrying it on? Oh wait, you won't know, because she's not your Mother."

Everyone is quiet. I graze my eyes over Castella and the twins, no-one dare speaking, before they land back on Jensen. He looks angry... angry over what? It's a debate, not life. He shouldn't start something that he clearly has no knowledge about. "Well?" Ruben cuts in. "Is this going to be a debate for us all, or just you two?"

I look at Ruben. "Do you have anything to input?" I ask.

He ponders for a moment, his hand drifting from Jensen's shoulder. "I suppose I can think of something," yet, I'm answered with a pause. "Okay, what about this," he points. "If this does end up to be some sort of poetic justice or irony or whatever, where the districts have basically done this themselves unintentionally, then why do we continue to do it?"

"Yeah," Castella joins. "I mean, it's entertainment and everything, but it does get boring every couple of years... I mean, last year, it was a redwood forest. I'm pretty sure they've done that already."

Of course she'd remember - she wore an Opax Herrera hairclip, symbolising his victory - because Castella is the ultimate fan. In fact, if you wanted to know anything, you'd ask her and pray that she doesn't bore you with endless, pointless details like what Opax ate two hours before the finale or each outfit he wore on the Victory Tour after.

"That's a fair point," I regretfully agree. Jensen's face turns into pure happiness... such an asshole. "But after a while, ideas will become repetitive. As long as the Hunger Games are done, the districts are controlled, which is what is needed. Do you want to live during war time, Castella?"

Her face twists into shock. "O-Of course not..."

"Because I'm almost sure that it wasn't fun. Many Capitol children died as well, you know. Worse of all?" I lean closer, hearing Lumara squeal. "They targeted the important ones first, like the children of the politicians, Gamemakers..." she quickly tucks into Leonard's shoulder, his face a picturesque scene of fear.

Jensen scoffs. "No point in being afraid. He's basically saying that we'd all either be dead or held hostage... if this was war time, that is, which it isn't. So your point is invalid, Teddy Bear."

"It's very valid, if you actually listen," I sneer, running my fingers through my hair. "The Hunger Games must be complete otherwise chaos will reign. The districts will fight back and the third rebellion will commence. So yes, it's valid, because they're a symbol of power and control and without them, then we'd be in a war. Despite being repetitive, they are vital for our survival unless everyone wants that other war."

"So, your Mother has the grand idea of, what, making these tributes into soldiers, like the Dark Days had?" Ruben inquires.

"No," I deadpan. "I'm saying that the poetic justice is abundant. If you look closer, each Quarter Quell is chosen and each arena represents a theme. If eighteen-year-olds are the only ones being reaped this year, due to the districts making children into soliders during the Dark Days, what does that tell you?"

Silence. Of course, no-one is as quick as me. Jensen is my biggest competitor, but even his small brain can't comprehend it.

So, I simply shed a few words. "Fight for your life, my dears," I smirk. "Because at the end of the day, war is going to happen in one form or another. And, at the end of the day, you need to fight for what you want, whether it's freedom or your life. Eighteen-year-olds, child soldiers... they'll provide the biggest fight of them all."

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**Expect the reapings between seven-ten days, and hopefully, one update a week should go to plan to get through pre-Games a lot quicker! Whichever day I update will be the weekly date.**

**Here, however, are your wonderful tributes for this story and underneath, information and such, like the blog and everything.**

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**List Of Tributes.**

**District One - Luxury.**

Male: Carnelian Ritter.

Female: Temperance Clarion.

**District Two - Masonry.**

Male: Caine Pravda.

Female: Nelida Callous.

**District Three - Technology.**

Male: Jem Calvert.

Female: Sienna Mayfleet.

**District Four - Fishing.**

Male: Calder Lachlan.

Female: Kiara Vaud.

**District Five - Power.**

Male: Lyle Flinch.

Female: Audra Kincaid.

**District Six - Transportation.**

Male: Rhett Emery.

Female: Venice Woitel.

**District Seven - Lumber.**

Male: Ash Terrick.

Female: Quinn Tarly.

**District Eight - Textiles.**

Male: Jute Phillips.

Female: Angora Knight.

**District Nine - Grain.**

Male: Corin Roscoe.

Female: Sian Amser.

**District Ten - Livestock.**

Male: Haven Hemlock.

Female: Aubrey Turner.

**District Eleven - Agriculture.**

Male: Reed Wolfe.

Female: Onatah Fletcher.

**District Twelve - Coal.**

Male: Cypress Flint.

Female: Tierna Rowe.

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******Bad Blood by Bright Eyes.**

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******The blog for this story is_ ffyl hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

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**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**_Who are your favourite tributes from just a simple, first impression look at the blog? As in biased, judged impressions?_**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

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**Blog is up! Feel free to check the Victors blog to see who your tribute's mentor is.**

**Again, don't take the conversation between them too seriously. It's not meant to make sense to the readers. **


	3. The Weight of Living

**The Weight of Living.**

_All that you desired, when you were a child, was to be old._

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**Aphrodite Belmont, District One Female.**  
**One Hundred and Eighth Victor.**

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I don't know why I bother. Every year I have to mentor, I make an effort to be here early, to learn who got the gracious invitations from Augustus, to make sure that I'm ready for whatever is about to happen. Then Swift just waltz in when he likes and is suddenly everyone's favourite. Everyone remembers and loves Swift. I don't want to be remembered personally, but he should be remembered for taking this all seriously, not knocking back champagne in the morning and then expecting the tributes to be ready.

They're kids at the end of the day. Nothing more, nothing less.

On time, Swift makes it up to the stage. He smiles and waves at a few people in the crowd, girls gushing and boys looking on in awe.

"It's about time you made it up here," I hiss as he takes his seat. He turns around, smirking. "Don't do that. Don't piss me off."

"Oh Aphrodite. So tough, so closed... let me show you some love."

"Yeah, no, you can keep your disease to yourself, thanks." I retaliate as the escort takes the stage.

I remember once how Swift told me this was the best part. But it's not. The best part is when I can go home and stay away from the rest of the merry, idiot parade.

The escort begins her speech on the Quell and the rules. Everyone knows; that's why there is but two pens, on either side, full to the brim with children at the peak of their life. I remember our two tributes: Carnelian and Temperance. Naturally, the girl is blonde like Augustus adores, and the boy, well, I've heard good things about him. We have a better chance than last year, or even when Amethyst won and the odds were against her.

"And now, for our first tribute... ladies first," the escort drawls. Swift's favourite has left, apparently, after a particularly rough time when Swift revealed that he didn't love her as much as he did the sex. "Our female tribute this year is Fluorite Gascoigne."

A blonde haired girl begins to walk towards the stage. It could be Fluorite, or it could be Temperance. I grind my teeth together as she mounts the stage and gently prys the microphone from the escort's hand.

"I volunteer," she speaks quietly, hair hanging over half of her face. When the escort looks at her, she giggles. "Temperance Clarion, at your service."

Temperance simply throws the microphone back towards the escort, who catches it with a surprised look whilst Temperance giggles again. Swift snorts, and I turn to face him. "Something amusing?" I whisper.

"She looks off her rocker," he snorts again. "Did you want her, or can I? They say that crazy people are the best in bed."

"You're disgusting. No, I'll take her," I grimace. "You take the guy, unless you swing that way also."

Swift snorts again. Sometimes, he's just too easy to silence. The escort takes a slip from the bowl, reading the name. "Our male tribute is Lectar Harrot."

"I volunteer!" a roar blasts. It must be Carnelian... I've only heard good things about him. I smile slightly, proud I guess, as the boy jumps up the steps with enthusiasm. The escort hands him the microphone, a curious look on her face. "Carnelian Ritter," he smiles, and then, he turns to Temperance. "And I can't wait to take this journey." he adds with a sweet smile, but it's shaky, you can tell that much when it wavers as he hands the microphone back.

"District One, you are now represented." she drawls, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Oh, mine looks too peppy," Swift complains. "Are you sure I can't have the girl?"

I should let him. Just by looking at Temperance - who is still giggling to herself, face shrouded by the hair - and then Carnelian - who is waving and smiling genuinely - I'm unsure. But, Swift is an ass and I'd never let him win. "Nope. She's mine. You can man up for once and take this seriously. I'm sure Carnelian will push you into action."

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**Siryn Visceral, District Two Female.**  
**One Hundred and Seventeenth Victor.**

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"No, I refuse to go out there," I slam my foot against the floor for the umpteenth time, staring Tarzana down. Ever since Evander went six feet under, and his will revealed that Tarzana was now the sole owner of the Training Centre, her rules have become more tyrannical. Tarzana glares at me, hands on her hips. "I said no. You can't tell me what to do all the time, Tarzana."

"I can when you act like a brat all the time." she counters, jaw defined.

I gasp, feeling the fire underneath my skin. "That's it. I will not be mentoring with you... like, ever again."

"Trust me, this wasn't my first choice," she growls. "It was suppose to be Lennox's turn, but it's not my fault the little pyromaniac decided to get himself on lockdown. You were the only one left."

But I wasn't, I know that. Brick and Amity might be getting on in age, but they're still useful. Ajax, well, I don't know where he his. He's always out on business or just not home. Something tells me that he likes to avoid us all. I frown, trying to remember who else.

"Ajax?" I go with. I don't remember because I don't care.

"He's already in the Capitol," she moans. "You either go outside now, or I will make sure you get survival duty for the rest of the year," she points her finger at the door, but I refuse to move. I don't care; I'm the prettiest, I should be allowed to do what I want. "Fine! You stay here and you suffer."

She angrily leaves the room, slamming the door exceptionally hard.

I still don't care. I cross my arms, eyes still glued on the door. I can practically feel the hatred still in the room.

Suddenly, the door opens, and I flinch. Instead of Tarzana, though, it turns out to be an Avox. I glare at the red-headed witch, placing a hand on my hip. "You, servant," I command. She snaps up her head, nodding. "I want you to turn on the screen for the Reapings. I need to see who will be our volunteers."

She obediently skitters across the room, flipping out the plasma. She presses a few buttons and the light roars to life, pixels turning into the dampness of District Two. With the rain and dark clouds, it's no wonder why I wouldn't go outside. I didn't want my hair to get wet. The camera glances over Tarzana, wet hair stuck to her forehead. I suppress a snigger and take a seat, playing with the ends of my hair.

The escort moves onto the stage, a slip in hand. "Our tribute will be... J-"

"I volunteer." I smirk and watch more intently, the crowd parting for a tall, God-like creature. With tanned skin and short, cropped dark hair, he looks like a Victor. I can imagine him within our ranks.

When he gets onto the stage, he accepts the microphone and clears his throat. "Caine Pravda," he says quietly, clearing his throat again. "Caine Pravda."

The escort rushes over to collect another slip and I can't help but laugh, Tarzana looking grouchy and sulky in the corner of the stage. Good, it serves her right. I knew better and she isn't as almighty as she likes to make people believe. I continue to run my fingers through my hair as the escort reads out the next name. "Our female tribute will be... Atla P-"

A girl is suddenly running for the stage. She looks similar to Caine, with dark hair and tanned skin. She looks out of breath, cheeks tinted pink. When the escort hands her the microphone, though, she's hesitant. She hasn't said the words; she could change her mind. I lean forward, excitement building. This makes great television! Finally, she gently takes the microphone, fingers barely on the object.

"Nelida Callous." she says simply, handing the object back carefully.

Oh, well, it looks like she has a multitude of problems to deal with. Tarzana can have her; she likes to be in charge, I'd love to see her handle this freak.

* * *

**Mercury Molass, District Three Female.**  
**Ninety Second Victor.**

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"Do you have a pen with you?" I ask Micro as he takes a seat. He looks dumbfounded, gently patting his sides.

"Sorry," he frowns. "I presume you have a notepad with you?"

"You always have to be prepared to take notes," I reply. Notes not only help out with details and remembering what your tribute needs, but it also helps with my age. With each year that passes, I fear my mind might weaken. I can't let it happen, not when I have more people to save. It gives me a purpose. "I guess we can just discuss and I'll remember for on the train."

"It's not fair that you have to still do this." Micro frowns.

"I don't mind it," I admit honestly. "It gives me something to do and not wallow. Bolt has his adopted children and you have your figurines, I only have this."

"You could retire."

"Not a chance." I laugh.

The escort makes a little wave at Micro, a kind smile on her face and he blushes. After all the disaster, Micro has found company in Rebekah, the escort who seems to be genuinely interested in his hobby and life. It's good, Micro is a kind person but easily manipulated. I doubt she'd say anything bad though.

"Hello District Three," she smiles kindly, sweet words to calm them down. "I'll do your female first, and let the odds be in your favor."

She crosses the stage to collect the slip. With it in hand, she steps in front of the stand and smiles sadly, flipping the small death note. "And your female tribute is Sienna Mayfleet."

Mayfleet? I look to Micro, whose eyes light up. The fiery girl is easily spot, hair rare and bright. The Mayfleets are notorious within District Three for their blossoming business. Game design for Capitol children, I believe. They made a lot of income; enough to rival a Victor and their riches they claim as their own. I know her step-father personally, having invested some time in designing a particular mathematical game.

Sienna's head is snapping around, eyes wild and fearful. She looks ready to run at any second, and for a moment, she sidesteps a few girls and seems to be heading for the outskirts of the Square. But she gives up on herself quickly and resigns herself to fate, walking with a conflicted smile. I smile sadly, thumbing the notepad in my lap.

"I can't believe the Mayfleet's were reaped... her chances should have been ridiculously small." Micro comments.

"Not entirely," I debate. "Considering her age and position, she no doubt averaged alongside many others. It was pure, disgusting luck is all."

Sienna stands on the stand and rocks on the back of her heels, looking thoroughly conflicted. She could still run at any moment, and knowing her background, she might even get far.

"Your male tribute is Jeremiah Calvert." Rebekah suddenly speaks, a slip locked in her nimble fingers. The crowd murmurs and stirs, boys splitting apart. The boy is singled out, but doesn't seem to click onto his name. "Jeremiah? You need to come to the front."

Jeremiah is nudged forward, stumbling and tripping over his own feet. He gathers his bearings and moves forward, raising his hand and straightening his back. A smile cracks on his lips as he climbs up the steps, standing next to Sienna. "Jem," he says, loud enough for us to hear, but swallowed by the air. "I hate my name, so thanks for reading it out." he laughs to himself because no-one hears.

"Did you want to debate?" Micro asks, standing up. He helps me up politely, glasses dipping onto the bridge of his nose.

"There's no need," I smile sadly. "For once, I have... I have no idea what to do. There's too many variables to consider. Micro, my dear boy, I think tactical thinking won't work this time. It'll be too cutthroat."

He nods along, helping me through the Justice Building, following Sienna and Jem. I fear that, once we're on the train, I won't be able to help... and both the children look like they need it, in one form or another.

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**Odyessa St. Pierre, District Four Female.**  
**One Hundred and Eleventh Victor.**

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Another year, another dead tribute. My luck in mentoring has been less than successful. Whether I like them, which is rare, or I don't, they die. Octavian seems to think he has the whole idea down pat, but honestly, I'm beginning to wonder whether District Four needs a tough regime like the other Career districts.

"I keep telling you. District Four is far too divided to have a Training Centre or an Academy," Octavian argues. My brother, always thinks he knows best. "We were more willing in the rebellion than others. It shows our district isn't as straight and narrow as the other two."

"Our credit is floundering," I complain again. It is; we have less Victors than both districts, I mean, at some point, an outer district will overtake us in names. We used to be so power, and now we have... reaped children all the time, because the volunteers just don't want it to happen. "We'll be the laughing stock soon enough."

"You've already been that since your victory," Octavian teases, turning to me with a smirk. "But seriously. Let the idea go. Annie would never have set one up, not like Evander or Augustus."

"That's because she's weak."

"It's because she's tragic," he rolls his eyes. "You're such a bitch sometimes, it's a wonder why anyone likes you at all."

"I'm not well liked because I'm better," I counter. "What's that saying? About I'd rather be hated and powerful, then liked and weak?"

Octavian rolls his eyes again and leans deeper into the chair. He knows I'm right; to be successful, you have to make a few enemies. I don't go out of my way to hate on others - apart from River, but she's getting on in age; it wouldn't be right to target an old lady now - but if it happens, then I'll defend myself. I'm a Career still at heart, unlike Octavian who has shedded his identity and tried to reform it into something else.

"Hello District Four!" our escort chirps. Great, Capitol people are as bad as the reaped children. I remember that one boy... Lux? About a decade ago now, mine and Octavian's first time mentoring together. He was reaped. He died to a District Three tribute. District Three... it's a shame through and through. "Is everyone excited? I can feel the excitement in the air!"

I'm sure he could. But, looking out into the crowd, people look less than enthusiastic. Something tells me that we might not have any volunteers.

"I shall collect our male first," he grins, waving his hands like a lunatic. He takes the slip and moves back to the centre of the stage, ensuring to swish his hips dramatically. I can't help but roll my eyes; stupid and ignorant, the lot of them. "And your male tribute for this Quarter Quell is... Calder Lachlan!"

The solemn boy moves forward, being near the front. As he takes a step or two, a sprinting child comes from the sides, hand in the air. "I volunteer! I volunteer!"

Calder turns around, eyebrows knitted. "No, no it's okay," he says, putting his hand out. The crowd moves silent; what, they haven't seen this before? A reaped child excepting their imminent death? "I don't want any volunteers," he sighs. "I'll do it."

The escort can't stop the smile on his lips. "Oh this is so dramatic, I just love it. I think I might cry. Calder, stand here please whilst I collect your lovely partner," he takes the first female slip and retreats back to the stand. Calder stands on his side, awkward with his head bowed. "And your female tribute for this Quarter Quell is... Verity Lancaster."

I find the girl instantly. I know the Lancaster girl, and god is she irritating. My fate is sealed with her. How wonderful. "Great," I mutter, catching Octavian's attention. He hums, turning to me. "You can have her. I can't stand her."

"No need. Here comes a volunteer." he points, and so he's right, a small bobbing head rushing towards the stage.

"Me, me, me," she chants as she climbs the steps. "I'm volunteering as tribute. Yeah, me. Oh I'm Kiara, Kiara Vaud."

"This is just so emotional," the escort blubbers. A smile spreads on my lips, but not for him - for Kiara. She could be useful. "I just can't, not this year. It's all so perfect. I would just like to thank you all for my first ever time as escort, it's been wonderful," he's met with complete and utter silence, as Kiara skips next to Calder, peppy. "My fishy district, meet your tributes!"

* * *

**Nebula Winersh, District Five Female.**  
**One Hundred and Eighteenth Victor.**

* * *

Elesa takes her seat next to me, her face masked in angst. She's always been the same, ever since she won. She might be as white as possible, but I feel like her heart might've taken too much damage to not be black.

"Hey, cheer up," I encourage her, despite being awfully younger. "At least we know that our tributes have an even shot this year. No little children, like Quote from two years ago."

She bites her lip gently, eyes looking around. "You could very well be right. You could also be wrong," a small droplet of blood cascades from her lip, landing on her dress. "I just don't know how much more I can take of it all."

It was ten years last year, since Elesa's victory in that poisonous house. Something tells me that she doesn't like the attention the affects have left her. I personally wouldn't mind either way, but that's just me. I'm probably more strong-minded compared to Elesa, seeing as my arena wasn't a ticking timebomb. Still, Elesa has a tough experience to share and I have superior knowledge.

"I believe the male will go first," I say absently, watching the escort cracks jokes to lighten the crowd. Of course, no-one will smile; someone will die, maybe even two. Mine will probably go further. "I think I'll take him. If we wait until they both are reaped, then it'll be completely unfair. This way, everything is perfectly adequate."

Elesa just nods again. I struggle with whether to ask her what is wrong or not, before looking back at the stage. The escort mounts the microphone and smiles. My stomach churns in both anticipation and excitement; this will be the first Quell I've ever witnessed, and I get the opportunity to mentor!

"Your male tribute is... drum roll please... Lyle Flinch!"

I quickly find him, the tribute left in the midst of boys who part as quick as possible. Shocked tears spring to his eyes as he slowly moves forward, his hands visibly flexing. He could be a fighter; his height and slender build being that of both a runner and a combatant. I might've just got myself the most perfect tribute possible. I fight away my proud glee as Lyle climbs the steps, shock turning into slight anger.

"Your female tribute is Audra Kincaid!"

Again, the girl is easy to spot, everyone parting to leave her open. Her eyes widen - like an animal caught in headlights - before she starts to violently shake. I lean closer, heart thumping. I notice Elesa does the same, her whiteness blurring the edge of my vision. "She looks so scared." she comments quietly.

Slowly, Audra moves forward. Each movement looks like it'll be her last, weak and unstable legs about to give out. As she climbs the stage, facing us, her pale face soon turns a sickly green. My eyes widen and I turn, hearing the sounds of her retching onto the wooden stage.

"Oh no, oh no, my shoes!" the escort shrills.

I can hear Elesa swallow. "She was just sick. Poor girl."

I think it's obvious; you either heard the noise or sure the action. I can't look, I just can't. Seeing sick would only make me sick. I take Elesa's word for it, nodding hastily. "I guessed..."

"District Five, please give a round of applause for your tributes." the escort says much more dull.

But, even without knowing, I can guess the silence. It's not an honor, but a death sentence. What is an honor, though, is being mentored by me, and Lyle just so happens to be that lucky guy. Elesa leans back into view, arms crossed tight. "I'll definitely take the girl," she echoes my thoughts previously. "She reminds me of me."

"Sure." I say politely. Lyle reminds me of me, too. That's even better for him; if I won, he's more than likely now.

* * *

**Lorcan Trump, District Six Male.**  
**Ninety Ninth Victor.**

* * *

When I climb the steps, Constance is already sat in her seat, jaw clenched and eyes visibly angry. She takes this too seriously. After a few more hits to her sanity, she'll realise that with each year of mentoring means each year you lose on your life. It drove Wisp to an early grave, and it'll drive me and her and everyone else who "wins".

"You're late, not that I'm surprised," she grumbles as I take my seat. I wave her comment away, looking out into the distance. "When are you going to realise that your tardiness is another reason these pathetic chumps are being picked off easily?"

"Maybe never." I mumble in return.

"I don't see the point in you mentoring. I might as well do it by myself, seeing as everyone else is incompetent." she snarls, and I hear her chair thump.

"You haven't been doing it as long as me," I turn to face her. "It'll take it's toll you, I promise." I add with a grimace.

What Constance has yet to realise is that I'm older, that I've been doing it longer, that I've seen more deaths than she has had birthdays. Each year, twenty-three die. I watch twenty-three kids lose their lives through the arena and the Gamemakers and each other. Add that up, ever since I won twenty-five years ago - a year before the fourth Quarter Quell - and that's over five hundred.

Our escort already has the slip by the time I tune in. I don't want to be here as much as the children don't want to be tributes. I'm sick of all my vain attempts to save someone when they end up dying, or they're subjected to a life like mine. Death seems more desirable after that first year, that first time you get to know two children from your home and then watch them be bloodbathed.

"Your female tribute this year is Venice Woitel. Venice Woitel, I want you!" she adds with a disgustingly charming wink.

The girl is on the sidelines. Her eyes widen, before she looks down. You can see her head shake, slightly shaking. I watch with careful eyes as she looks up, eyes now teary.

"She looks pathetic. I don't want her, so you might as well. Not like you'll do anything for her survival anyway." Constance says darkly, arms crossed. I glare at her slightly, before Venice moves forward, laughing under her breath. She looks slightly insane. It probably is better I have her; Constance tends to belittle tributes who she deems... unusual.

Before Venice has even gotten onto the stage, the escort begins to talk about the Quell some more. She glances at Venice, smirking. "Oh dear, you look frazzled. Did you want a tissue? It'll reflect bad on me if you aren't picture perfect."

"I'm fine, thank you." she snaps a glare at the escort, who silences right there and then. Both Constance and I snigger, something we have in common; we love tributes with snark. If they can bark, then hopefully they'll bite.

"Okay then..." she shakes away her frown and smiles. "Let me tell you your male tribute now," she flips open the paper and smirks. "Rhett Emery, I want you!"

Suddenly, a growl pierces the air. My eyes widen and the laugh on the tip of my tongue dies. A few short, dry laughs escape my lips though, as I scan for the boy. I see the long, black hair, moving forwards, hiding away his face. When he peeks through the dark strands, another animal-like noise escapes his mouth.

"Oh my," the escort gasps.

Constance growls as well, but her's is because she's pissed off. She thought Venice was crazy and that Rhett would be fine; turns out, neither tribute is up to her standard. "Great," she deadpans. "I'll take him. At least I know his angle already - creepy voice and dark hair. The perfect psychopath."

"Even though he might not be like that." I counter.

"Doesn't matter," Constance pauses, and then turns to me. "I'm actually going to do something for my tribute, and that means preparation and planning. Anyway, since when did you care, always leaving them high and dry?"

"I've always cared." I glower.

"Sure seems like it," she smirks. "Let that anger drive you, Lorcan. Maybe your tribute might beat mine."

"Maybe," I grind my teeth. Constance's attitude is wearing thin on me. If she thinks I care so little, I'll have to prove it to her. It might break me again, but maybe that'll be the show she needs. She can't be invulnerable forever. "Just maybe."

* * *

**Opax Herrera, District Seven Male.**  
**One Hundred and Twenty Fourth Victor.**

* * *

"Does everyone know the drill then?" Spruce questions us at the foot of the stage. He looks at me with hardened eyes, at Maple with care because it's unfair she's not only a girl, but his girlfriend.

"Yes boss," I salute him mockingly. "Even though I've only been here a year and this is totally unfair of you all."

"Hardly. You're new, you pitch in like everyone else," Spruce smiles. "Maple, baby, make sure he does as he's suppose to. We can't let him in fully unless he completes his hazing."

She leans forward and plants a kiss to his nose. "Always," she adds with a kind smile, something unusual for the normally hostile, brute of a woman. I guess what they say is true; behind every muscular person is a sensitive heart. Maple turns to me, lips curled devilishly. "You can't be one of us unless you complete the ritual."

"I became one of "us" when I survived," I add with an unintentional harsh tone. I wince, remembering my place. "I'm sorry, I just... yeah."

I don't need to explain myself to them. They understand, compared to my family who can't even look me in the eye. They don't understand the extremes I was pushed to, fighting for my life in a horrid environment. Carnivorous plants, grass as sharp as needles, the sky constantly grey and smoky... I'll never forget the image, forever imprinted in my mind. But, I need to move on. I won, I need to get my life together. When I get back from the Capitol, I need to visit my family one more time, a last-ditch attempt to sew back the severed ties.

Maple gently kisses Spruce goodbye and he walks away, no doubt going to see Willow, despite their tension. Maple hums, turning back around to me. "I guess I better show you the ropes."

On stage, she tells me how to sit and where to look. I can't look too eager - for it all upset the crowd, to know their own Victors look happy - or too sad because the Capitol will assume I'm either suicidal and place me on lockdown, or that a rebellion could be underwraps. Little Pippin Halland didn't make that easy. We're all watched more carefully.

"When they call a tribute, just look ahead. Don't smile or clap or anything. Look, and stay neutral. You can't do that wrong, or can you?" she smirks.

"I think I'm capable." I tease.

When the escort takes to the microphone, I ease up a little. I remember it last year, when my name was called. I couldn't believe the irony; how I took out tesserae for the first time a year before.

But I won, even if I was a likely candidate. No-one this year will be ruled out, which evens the playing field out. The escort babbles about something before collecting the female slip. She flips it slowly, smiling at the unease and tension that comes with each tiny movement of her curved nail.

"Quinn Tarly." she states in an eerie tone.

I know her, well, kind of. I often heard of the name in school, the girl who witnessed her mother's murder. It was public, I remember that much, and I could've even been there myself. I tense as the girl with curly, dark hair is left alone, paralyzed on the spot. She's petrified so much, a Peacekeeper comes charging towards her for encouragement. The sight scares her into running for the stage, where she's left stuttering and shrinking into herself.

"Well," Maple whispers. "I guess she has a fair share of problems. Maybe I should take her, in case she's too much for you on your first go. Spruce will probably bitch about it, but who cares."

"Thank you." I mime as the escort prepares herself for the boy. Some of my friends are a year younger than me, in that crowd. They better not look up to me in awe or anything.

"Ash Terrick." she states again. With that tone, it's no wonder that everyone feels even more depressed than normal. She's even bringing me down.

I don't know this one, so it takes away a bit of the pressure. The tall boy moves forward, looking around. He quickly runs for the outskirts of the pens, scooping a little girl into his arms and giving her a hug that melts my heart. Little sister, maybe? Even way, the girl is crying and when she's pried from his arms, she's screaming his name. He walks with a sad smile on his face, trying to be brave for the tearful child. Even hardened Maple sighs. "It's awful." she whispers again.

I swallow thickly, flashes and memories blocking my mind. Focus, Opax, focus. Moving on with your life as we speak. "Yeah," I mumble. "Something tells me that the ritual will be completed. He'll be difficult to remember; I have him, and a little girl to think about now.

* * *

**Pippin Halland, District Eight Male.**  
**One Hundred and Nineteenth Victor.**

* * *

Darek wraps me up in a warm hug, an attempt to take away the pain. "It's okay," he whispers, as if the rest of Panem is watching. They probably are; I did a bad thing and now I need to be punished. "I'm always here for you, Pip."

Darek's like the older brother I never had. Even as we both grow older - and six years between us - I still find comfort in his presence. He understands me, post and pre-victory. He knows how I tick better than I do.

"You can't always be there," I mumble in return. "They're always watching."

"Let them," he lets me go, and I have to hide my discomfort. I never know what to do, or how to do it. I need a guide constantly because some mornings, it's too hard to get out of bed and then move to the livingroom. I can't make those steps without guidance because, without them, I'd never move. I need an extra push because I'm too scared, too weak, to do it by myself. "Pip, we need to do this," he says again. "They've asked you to mentor. If you say no, they'll grow even more suspicious."

From the corner of my eye, I can see a Peacekeeper watching intently. Probably assumes the hug was some way to orchestrate another rebellion. Maybe a rebellion is a good idea. Maybe, subconsciously, I did try to ignite one when I claimed my victory. I'll never know; it's probably better I don't. "I know," I try and hide the frown again. "I know, I just... you know."

"I know." he smiles sadly, leading me out of the room with a firm hand on my shoulder.

He leads me down the hallway and then out of the room. District Eight is glum, with dark clouds and the onset of rain coming in. The perfect weather for a perfect day, I think bitterly as Darek puts me in my seat.

"Thank you," I tell him as the escort walks onto stage. He smiles again, but it's always been like that, ever since he won and I met him. I've seen photographs of him before, even used his triplets to wonder what he looked like when he smiled, or was just... happy. "I have an appointment in the Capitol," I tell him when the escort begins to talk. He looks at me, eyes alarmed. "I don't know what for. Some... thing."

I see Darek swallow thickly, his jaw clenched. "Right."

"Please pay attention," the escort turns around and snaps, lips curled in disgust as the promo rolls through. "You both should know better," the video continues to play through, and when it stops, she steps to the microphone stand. I shrink back into my seat as she takes a slip and plucks it open. "Your male tribute. Oh, first I'll do male tribute. Your male tribute is Jute Phillips!"

There's a small commotion in the pen, people separating and the boy left abandoned. He seems out of it, just staring into space. Darek sighs, leaning into his chair whilst I shrink again, noticing the Peacekeepers' eyes all trained on me, the boy who could've ruined everything. The boy next to him turns, whispering something in his ear and Jute, apparently, laughs like it's the funniest thing in the world. But then his face drains and he looks around, taking in his surroundings.

He makes his way slowly, still confused and looking around at everyone. He probably can't believe; I know that sinking feeling.

"And now your female tribute," the escort continues. She glances at Jute as he stands there, eyeing him up curiously. "Please stand straight. You represent us all," she commands, but he's still not listening. She huffs as she flips the slip. "Your female tribute is Angora Knight!"

The girl is easy to spot because she gasps. I bite down on my bottom lip as she walks forward, a sad smile on her face. Her flowing brown locks hide most of her expression, but you can tell she's surprised. Maybe even sad.

"When do you go?" Darek asks, and I turn and frown. "The appointment in the Capitol, I mean."

I shrug. "Sometime after the parade." I answer quietly.

He nods curtly. "You can pick whichever one you want then," he then smiles sadly. "And I'll be waiting for you, but you know that."

I smile. That I do.

* * *

**Nicolet Aryth, District Nine Female.**  
**One Hundred and Sixteenth Victor.**

* * *

Ever since Buck died, neither Bailey nor Remy have been happy. I understand that years of knowing someone could mean that their death would be painful, but frankly, it's as if they both want a reason to wallow and self-pity. Bailey will cry and Remy will comfort her. Remy will choke up, and Bailey will cry to comfort him, and then Remy will have to comfort her as well as himself. It's an endless cycle of tears and pain that, frankly, doesn't need to happen.

They could just get over it? I might not have known Buck as well as them two, but I'm pretty sure that even he'd be pissed to know that they continue to mourn him, even a few years after his demise.

It's why neither are here. Bailey got upset a few minutes before Remy was suppose to be here, so he turned around, and scurried back to her beckoning call. He said he'd be on the train, but I'm not even holding him to that. If he turns up, great, if he doesn't, oh well. I can handle both without him.

"Where's Remy?" Bellarose, the escort, asks with a sweet tone. I look at her with uninterested eyes. "Oh, that bad? Are we mentoring alone this year?"

"Go and do your thing. It's all you're good for after all." I deadpan, watching her face fall in disgust before she walks away.

"Good morning District Nine," she sings into the microphone, but gains no reaction. "Well aren't we all just chipper this morning. Makes my job that much sweeter," she unclips the microphone and takes it with her towards a bowl. "I think we'll do ladies first. I'm sure you gents don't mind waiting."

Again, no response. I have to snigger at her failed attempts. She's so pathetic, it's ridiculous. Just like the tributes she's bound to reap.

She unfolds the slip slowly, sadistically enjoying the tension and the way everyone is hanging by a thread for her words.

"Hurry up." I hiss, and Bellarose's head turns around to glare.

"Since I'm being rushed," she mutters darkly under her breath. "Your female tribute is Sian Amser. Quick, Sian, before your mentor rips your head off."

A loud gasp breaks the silence. My eyes follow the noise, the girl locked in a group of other girls who stare at her with sadness. A few tears leak from her eyes but she hurriedly swipes them away with her fists. Slowly, she moves forward, a timid smile so desperately trying to break out on her face. Oh great. She'll be hard to convince that killing is okay because when your life is on the line, anything is allowed. What do you want more, sanity or life?

She climbs onto the stage. "Quick dear, before she attacks," Bellarose spitefully adds. She abandons Sian quickly when I glower, heading for the male's bowl. "I need to be quicker. Quicker, quicker, quicker," she continues to mock me, in front of anyone. I couldn't care less; at least I worked for the money I rightfully earned. She grabs the slip and rips it open. "Corin Roscoe, Corin Roscoe, you must come quickly."

Anger bubbles on my skin and I clench my fists. She's really pissing me off. Does she know that mocking a murderer is a bad idea? I have nothing left to lose, Bellarose. If Remy was here, she'd be absolutely silent.

I know Corin, well, at least I've heard of him. One of the few rich kids from District Nine, if it could be possible. His eyes flare in anger, face turning bright red. I smile; I like him, he has fire. He stomps towards the stage, showing off more and more of that hidden fire I want him to use. Yes, yes I like him a lot. Sian seems to smile sadly when he mounts the stage, but he even looks at her in disgust.

"District Nine, quick, bid them goodbye." Bellarose continues.

I look to Corin, and he looks at me. The anger between us is as hot as a volcano. I smile again; yes, oh yes, he's perfect. Remy doesn't know what he's missing.

* * *

**Oxford Altai, District Ten Male.**  
**One Hundred and Twenty First Victor.**

* * *

"Did you want to continue with your reading?" Macaulay asks, showing me the book I've been told to use, in order to recollect my lost memories. I shake my head, a dull thud alarming in the background. "Okay, well, you know where it is. We'll take it with us, okay?"

"I do remember some things, Macaulay," I groan, rubbing my temple. "Not everything is forgotten."

But truth is, it wasn't always like that. It took me a year to be able to remember my siblings names and birthdays, the day my Father died and the day my Mother got remarried. Another year went by before I was able to remember my childhood and school-life, before I was reaped. They told me it would take some time; they never said it would take years of therapy. Each day, I read my book, remember and repeat. Macaulay or Serena take me to places in the hopes of recapturing the lost thoughts.

It's not that I forgot everything. I just forgot the important things.

Momentary... momentary... I don't know. Momentary memory-loss, I think. Apparently, I took too many hits to the head against the District One male in the finale.

The escort mounts the stage. Macaulay looks at me, and I nod. "Lore. His name is Lore. Seriously, Mac, I forgot things before the arena, not after."

"It's all about working your brain and memory. Homework, you could say."

"I never liked homework," I mutter, turning to him. "I remember that much. I never liked it."

Macaulay smiles and turns back. It's amazing at the change in him, well, from what Serena said. Or Sunny. I sometimes get the two mixed up, because their personalities are vaguely similar. Either way, one said that Macaulay spent years bringing himself back from the edge, all with therapy. It's why he's so keen to "fix" me.

Lore takes to the stand and reads the name, mumbling. I carefully read his lips, flexing my brain, as Macaulay would say. I can almost see him smiling from my side. "Your first tribute, the male, is none other than... Haven Hemlock!" he cheers.

I try to find the guy first - in a poor attempt to make Macaulay proud, or to back off a little - but have no luck. Macaulay taps me on the shoulder as the boy, with dark hair and a grounded expression, swiftly moves through the crowd. He looks pissed to the max. Maybe even an angry determination underneath his skin. Is there a difference? I don't remember, and I rub the dull thud on my temple to try and coax the answer from me.

Haven takes the stage. Macaulay uses the distraction to slide the book into my lap. I look down, frown, but quickly look up. I'll get there, with or without Macaulay's help. People don't live their whole life with... with... absent? No, that's not it...

Sometimes, it's hard to remember certain words - particularly the easy ones - or the familiar smell. I recognise it, but I don't know the source. I'll see a person and a lightbulb will go off, but the word will die on my tongue. I can't remember my past that well and I barely can keep up with the present... my future isn't looking too bright. I bite the inside of my cheek as Lore returns with the female slip.

"And the second tribute, the female, is Aubrey Turner!" he cheers again, looking around with an expected smile.

Again, I try to find the tribute. But, once again, Macaulay taps my shoulder and points. The crowd parts and leaves the girl alone. She looks around, a slow reaction. It's almost reminiscent of me, when I just don't know the way home from the butchers and need someone to guide me. Slowly, she moves forward, lips curling into a frown and eyebrows dropping in confusion.

She climbs the steps and stands next to Haven. He gives her a long look, before shaking his head. Macaulay hums from my side and I turn, expecting an answer but instead getting a sad smile. "I guess the dividing starts," he says. "Everyone for themselves. Which one do you think will be easier for you?"

He doesn't really say it like he's looking down at me or anything, but like an overprotective parent. "Who do you think?"

"Definitely Aubrey. Haven looks like trouble."

"I'll take Haven then." I respond, and Macaulay's eyebrows knit.

"Why?" he questions, eyes swimming in confusion.

"If I don't challenge myself, I'll never grow," I smile lightly. "I don't need to be wrapped in a blanket. Just because I have... whatever I have, doesn't mean I can't handle a tribute. I'm a mentor, it's my job."

"You're a special case," he frowns. "Look, read the book some more, and then maybe you can take on Haven."

I nod in defeat, curling my fingers around the edge of the leather-bound book. I'll never have my life back. They took it from me. I just want to make sure they don't take someone else.

* * *

**Mako Twittle, District Eleven Male.**  
**Eighty Second Victor.**

* * *

The screen lights up in a flurry of colours. I frown. It's brighter than the sky is. After so many years, they haven't changed the propaganda, just made it more brighter and distracting.

"I'm getting bored of this," Kane complains as the promo begins. "Every year it's the same. War, pain, suffering, blah. It was over a century ago, you'd think they'd stop holding the grudge."

"That's not the idea of politics." I argue. If Ida was here, she would've agreed, but kept more to herself. She was always the quiet one of us two. I remember dealing with a child that was as poisonous as possible, and I was the one who had to handle him, despite Ida being his mentor. I miss her more than I thought, our bond stretching decades. It's been a while, but the wound is still raw, particularly when I mentor and I clash with Kane all the time.

"Yeah, but come on," he hisses, keeping his volume low. "Panem can't begin to change until their leader changes."

"It definitely won't happen with Esmeralda in charge."

"She'll be dead soon enough," he counters. "All the surgery can't hide the fact that she's now in her sixties."

I tune Kane out as the escort begins the fated name ceremony. I need to be on the ball for the both of us. Whilst Kane has matured since his victory, he's still the same boy, curious and annoying.

"I'll start with the boys, because I like boys. They're always so cute and pudgy as babies," the escort grossly comments as she scans the paper for the name. "Reed Wolfe, I hope you're adorable!"

A boy with large hair is spotted. I smile, remembering my dreadlocks fondly. Sometimes, we're known for crazy hairstyles; a trait we must've taken from the Capitol, considering the escort's lilac ringlets. Reed looks downtrodden as he walks forward, his eyes looking ahead without meaning. I guess he must be in shock. I wouldn't blame him, he's probably already analysing his chances of actually winning and, if so, the horror he'll see beforehand.

He takes the stage and turns to Kane. Kane gives him a comforting thumbs-up, before turning to me. "Aw, he seems nice," Kane comments. "Do you want him, or can I? I think we'd get on. I've always wanted a younger brother of sorts."

"He's all yours, as long as you take it seriously." I reply.

"When have I ever not?" he says, and when I look at him, he laughs. "Yeah okay, I was joking. But seriously. I think the relationship between mentor and tribute is important. Me and Reed will probably get on well."

Before he dies, no doubt. Relationships or emotional attachment with the tributes is never great. "Sure." I lie.

"And now the girls, because whilst they're cute, they're just not pudgy enough for me. Not enough cuteness to eat all up," she then giggles, making her seem more disturbing. It must be a way to lighten the mood, or she's simply new. Come to think of it, I've never seen her before this. "Onatah Fletcher, I just love your name, come on up!"

The girl starts to move, face neutral. Everything looks normal, like a girl about to accept her death, before she walks to the sidelines. She must want to say goodbye to a loved one, and when she approaches an older man, I assume it's her uncle. My heart hiccups slightly, the idea of tears or a hug ready to break an aging heart.

Instead, though, she does something different. She leans back and then hurls a blob of spit into his face. She turns, smirks, and advances towards the stage hastily. My eyes widen and Kane laughs, clapping his hands. "Oh no no, I want to change my mind now. She's exactly like me!" he says, controlling his glee.

I roll my eyes. "Flaky," I say. "But no, you chose, you deal. Onatah seems nice enough," she mounts the stage, glances over Reed without much conviction, before turning to the audience and bowing. "Yes, she's mine."

* * *

**Crispin Ricknor, District Twelve Male.**  
**One Hundred and Fourth Victor.**

* * *

"I'm sure luck will be around the corner," Mayor Hiker says, a kind smile on his aging face. He came to visit me, because he knows of my rough time. It's been harder and harder to leave my own home, my now sanctuary. "District Twelve... it just needs a push."

"I fear that I'm just not enough." I answer truthfully.

He frowns, patting me on the shoulder. "You won and that's something to be proud of. I suggest that you take pride in knowing that you care, compared to many."

"But not pride in the fact that I haven't brought anyone home," I sigh. Jayden Perona a decade ago was the closest we've ever got, without winning that is. If one of our tributes pass the halfway mark, they usually win. As far as I know, only three have, and they all became Victors before me. "You should be getting outside. I'm sure they'll need you soon."

I can't go out there, he knows that. I used to be so proud and willing for our district, after getting myself out of the deep, dark hole in my mind. I was like an advocate for District Twelve pride. But with two tributes dying every year, it knocks you back. They all look to me as a symbol and I fail them each and every time.

"Very well," he smiles. "Cheer up, Crispin. We might be poor, but we're as tough as nails. We've gotten through worst." he says as he closes the door, leaving me alone.

I admit; when Peeta died a while ago, I feared that I wouldn't cope. I did for a while, but now, I've fallen down the same path. I can't lose anymore.

I turn the screen on in my house, sitting down on the couch. The Reapings will be shown live, for anyone who can't make it to the Square. When it's announced, and the tributes have their goodbyes, I'll need to go for the train. As much as I can't bear it, they still need me. I still need to keep strong, even for the few days they have left.

The screen buzzes to life. I watch through the promo and the adverts, everything Capitol-related out of little old District Twelve's reach. It soon changes to Mayor Hiker reading out the Treaty of Treason, closely followed by the Quell rules. I have no family to worry about, I think sadly, because as horrible as it sounds, I'd like someone to care for, even if they're a distant relative.

The escort soon replaces Mayor Hiker, and he uses our symbol of three fingers, a way of saying goodbye to the two tributes. The Capitol knows, but they've cooled down and redirected their attention onto the likes of District Eight and District Five, two districts for two different reasons I've yet to learn.

"I shall do our male tribute first," he says calmly, wicked green hair pointing to the overcast sky. He flips up the slip and I flinch, preparing myself for the worst; poverty-ridden, lithe and bony child ready to be written off before he's started. Instead, he calls out the name. "Cypress Flint."

As cliché as it sounds, I know of Cypress, or at least his reputation at his orphanage, dubbed "The Home". He's been known for being a little nuisance towards the Peacekeepers over trivial things. The camera zooms in on his expression, mouth agape and eyes surprised. My heart clenches as he walks towards the stage, shaking his head in a seemingly casual manner. He probably can't believe it, but accepts it. It'd fit the rumours.

When he's on the stage, the escort collects another slip and opens it up. "And your female tribute is Tierna Rowe."

The camera finds her with ease. She blinks a few times, before someone shoves her, and she stumbles forward. She tries to regain her composure, but falls down onto the ground. "Fuck!" she swears loudly. I laugh lightly, smiling at her attitude. Then, my mood sinks. Another tribute I'll like that'll probably die, if statistics play out.

She continues her way to the stage with angry stomps, a look of pure fury on her face. Next to Cypress, she looks more stronger but less stable. It could bode well for us; at least she isn't ravished of meat and strength. The boy has the muscles to be a miner, too.

I stand up from my seat and turn the screen off, just as they are escorted into the Justice Building. We might do it, but more than likely, they'll both die.

It's something I've learned the hard way; District Twelve will forever lose their tributes.

* * *

******The Weight of Living by Bastille. (Part II)**

* * *

******The blog for this story is_ ffyl hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Which mentor stood out to you?**_

_**Which tributes stood out to you?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**My eighth reaping. I still hate them. If these feel repetitive, I'm sorry. I lack creativity here. Oh, this is also completely unedited. Spelling mistakes could be abundant.**

**I just don't like to focus on the tributes. There is no point because they always are different for the rest of the story. They might cry here, but go on to smile, joke and laugh. In my mind, a third-person look provides a greater outlook on it all. So yeah, mentors again, because of that and I love them. Helps build on EsmeraldaVerse more.**

**And when I write mentors, I like my reapings. I like this one, thus, an early update, woo!**

**Next week, our first twelve tributes ;D**

**Thank you for the reviews as well. So many for hardly anything :')**


	4. Yellow Light

**Yellow Light.**

_The light is blinding my eyes, as the soft walls eat us alive._

* * *

**Nelida Callous, District Two Female.**

* * *

My mind races as I take a seat, my eyes locked on the curtain. I wonder if they'll let me do it myself? I bite my lip and look down at my covered body, skin bared. I totally forgot about this bit. It was one of the few things that were keeping me from coming here - and I literally mean a few things - but the positives outweighed the negatives. There wasn't much stopping me.

The woman steps around the corner, her eyes tinted purple.

"Are you Nelida?" she says, emotionless. It makes me feel better that she isn't peppy. I nod, and her straight lips peel into a smile. "Oh, you look so scared!" she cheers. Great, just what I wanted. "Oh dear, please don't be afraid. I'm sure a lot of work isn't needed. You look better than most filthy children."

She crosses the gap, fingers flexing for the metal table nearby. I take a few deep breaths as she places the cold soap to my shoulder. Everything inside of me wants to scream, but I bite down on my tongue until I feel the warmth of blood.

"Nelida, tell me about yourself," she moves the soap down my body slowly, making my spine shiver and my toes curl. "Oh I haven't even introduced myself. My name is Havartia, but you can call me Hattie. So go on, what's life like in District Two."

"It's fine," I answer shortly. It isn't enough to quench her thirst, though, and she prods me with a laugh. "Um. It's... average."

"I'm sure your family are so proud of you for doing this. I hear District Two can be hardcore for the Hunger Games!" she says gleefully.

The mention of my family makes me wince. Yeah, well, it's something she's never going to really know. "Yeah, I guess."

"And can I just say - between girls - that Caine is just yummy. I think you should test your luck with that hulk of bronzed chocolate!"

Caine. Oh, him. I didn't take much notice of Caine on the train. He didn't talk either, so I guess he's my favourite person so far. It shut Siryn down straightaway, when she babbled on about something. The only thing with Caine is, he always looks troubled. I might be troubled, but I try and hide it. He seems to wear a constant brooding look.

Havartia moves the soap down my body further. I close my eyes, forcing a small smile on my face. Maybe she'll think I'm enjoying this when my skin feels like it's crawling.

"Are you going to be participating in the Career alliance? I heard from the grapevine that your chances are better this year. Sponsors lined up for miles. Isn't that just super?" I open my eyes, just in time for her to lean into my face, grinning from ear to ear. My whole body tenses instantly, and she notices. "Dear, you look tense."

"Excitement," I lie. "Enjoyment. A mixture of the both." I attempt a weak smile.

"I can totally agree. I miss my daily massages," she prats on, going back to scrubbing. I clench my teeth and allow her to finish whatever it is she's doing, all the while trying to rid the images from my mind. Every time I've been touched, it's been... it's been... no, no it won't happen here. But it doesn't hide me from it long. I open my eyes again, watching as Havartia moves away with a grin. "All done. Go and look in the mirror!"

But as I walk over, I only see the skin that isn't marred or ruined. Nothing physical to show, but mentally, it's a whole story. At least they can't get to that.

I smile weakly again. At least when someone touches me in the arena, I'll be able to react the way I've so desperately wanted to for years.

* * *

**Calder Lachlan, District Four Male.**

* * *

The elevator door opens, and I walk out into the lights. Everything is so bright and loud, the noise deafening at first. It reminds me of a stormy sea, with the waves rocking and rolling. I move forward fast, not wanting to be seen or caught for a chat. I haven't even met my allies yet, and they've probably already judged me on being reaped, not a volunteer like the rest of them.

It was weird when I was reaped. For the first time in about three years, I saw my Father. He didn't smile the way I wanted him to. I wanted him to be miserable, to see the error of his ways, but no. He smiled because he got what he wanted. Me, into the Hunger Games. But I didn't say yes for him.

Octavian exits the elevator, accompanied by his sister, Odyessa. Both of them the reasons as to why my family broke. I should hate them - specifically Octavian for being the catalyst - but I don't. I'm tired of hate. Octavian walks over, a curt smile on his face. "Kiara, apparently, is having some trouble with her costume."

"As in, the girl fell over, tore it, and then needed it fixed," Odyessa inputs, unhappy. "The girl will kill herself. Watch. It's never happened before, but I've never met someone as idiotic as Kiara."

"My sister ever the lady," Octavian falsely smiles, before eyeing my costume up. "We're doing fishermen again, yeah?"

"I asked for it." I say, with many reasons behind it. For one, it's my job, the only thing I could do when I dropped out of school and supported myself, detached from a family that was poisonous. Secondly, well, I'm not looking to stand out. Fishermen is common; it's better.

"It's hideous." Odyessa comments.

I look around, trying to find the rest of my allies. Even though I'm reaped, Octavian says that I should be in the alliance. They apparently had this trouble before about a decade ago, and now the rule is that all tributes are accepted from Career districts. Someone only leaves if they want to. Maybe I should, but no. They'll be a quicker ticket to the final. I spot Carnelian and Caine talking, their clashing suits and obviously false smiles.

Temperance is nearby, but I'm avoiding her. Something about her attitude at volunteering creeps me out. She leans over, giggles again, before throwing her head back. I'm avoiding her at all costs.

Just then, a few tributes begin to climb into their chariot. Once it's even, I climb, not waiting for Kiara. I don't even know where she is. I scan the elevators - surprisingly desperate to see her face; she reminds me of Mera a lot - before Octavian appears.

"I know you from somewhere," he says absently, not even to me, just at me. "It's the last name. Lachlan. Wait, didn't we have your sister a few years ago?"

I gulp thickly, pushing the anger and hatred for the whole of Panem down into the pit of my stomach. "Yeah." I answer shortly.

He shrugs, like it's no big deal. "Sorry about that. She's one of the youngest volunteers we've ever had."

"I know," I reply harshly, and Octavian's eyebrows rise. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he looks over his shoulder at Odyessa, just as Kiara comes out. She instantly starts to berate the short girl. "I understand siblings and that to a tee."

Odyessa points towards the chariot and Kiara comes running, eyes wide and lips open. As she reaches the machine, she stops, trying to climb up. Octavian watches on with a smirk. "Octavian?" Kiara quietly says. "Can you help me up? My dress won't lift that high on my own."

"Ask Calder. He's your district partner, after all," she turns to me, a smile on her face. "Go on Calder. Help the lady."

Obediently, I bend over and grasp her hand, hauling her up with ease. "Thank you so much," she chirps, grinning wildly. "I'm so glad you're here, Cal. I don't know what I'd do without you," she even sounds like Mera now. "Hey, Cal, do you think the alliance will be okay?" I follow her eyes towards Nelida, emerging with a plain expression. I shrug. "Well at least I have you. We can do this together!" she gasps, like it's the greatest idea ever.

"Yeah," I mumble. "Sounds great."

* * *

**Quinn Tarly, District Seven Female.**

* * *

"Just do your best. Smile, wave, just anything," Maple suggests. "Don't be in the background. It'll be worse than gaining attention for the wrong things."

That doesn't make much sense. "Okay. I'll try my hardest." I weakly smile.

Maple smiles. "Okay then, up you go," she helps me up onto the golden chariot, just as Opax and Ash come walking over. "I'm sure Ash can help you."

Ash could probably help me, but I wouldn't ask. I'll probably weigh him down too much. Ash smiles, looking around in awe. "This is insane. If I didn't know where I was going in a few days, I'd clap for Panem's artwork," Opax chuckles, and Ash looks at him with a smirk. "I'm serious. But yeah. I helped with the outfit as well."

"He didn't," Opax laughs. "He thinks he somehow inspired the stylists."

Ash laughs so loud, a few stray tributes turn to look. There eyes then turn to me and I have to will myself to stay strong. "I might've. I said that complex designs were great!"

"Right, stop talking. Up you get, Ash," Maple encourages him. Ash leaps up, his costume rustling. I look him up and down before looking ahead. Next to him, I look like nothing. No-one will remember me. I'm glad for that. Maple leans pass Ash to me. "Remember, smile."

Ahead, the doors opens. Light pours into the Remake Centre, and as Ash stands by my side, I can't help but dread what is about to come. I know what will happen and I don't like it. Everyone will be watching me, expecting me to do something spectacular when all I want to do is shrink into myself.

They'll never know, though. I'll just bottle it up like I've always done. Ash is okay; people saw what he did at the reaping, and now they'll love him. Sponsors will be flooding in even though we only arrived in the Capitol today.

"Hey Quinn," Ash whispers, knocking his suit into mine. We're carefully constructed paper cranes and a piece flutters down. "Oh, oops," he comments absently and bends to pick it up. He seems out of it, looking around before putting it in a totally different place. I can't help but wonder. "Anyway, hey Quinn, I was wondering if you spoke to Opax about sponsors."

I shake my head, the urge to step back from him at a high. It's not like he isn't nice, I'm just not that good with people. "No, I'm afraid not. Sorry."

"Ah well. It was just about sharing the money and everything. No matter who gets sponsored, the money will be pooled together. It was his idea. I quite like it." he smiles.

Inside, a weight is lifted. Ash will get a lot of sponsors, whereas I'll get none. I have a back-up now. A small smile creeps on face but it's wiped away, the chariot lurching forward. The chariots begin to melt into the light, before we're too consumed.

It takes a moment for my eyes to readjust. When they do, though, I wish I was still blinded. The cheers are deafening, the looks even worse. I take a deep breath and stare forward. From my side, Ash begins to laugh, waving madly at the crowd. He seems like a little kid, but I'm sure the reality will catch up for him. The same people cheering for his attention will be cheering for his blood soon enough.

I keep looking around, mind whirling. With each look, I want to disappear, and I have to urge myself to stay rooted on the spot. I doubt anyone has jumped and run away before. I don't want to the first, let alone remembered forever for it.

My eyes land on the District Six pair in front of us, hefty suits large and boxy. They look like metallic crates with heads. In front of them, though, it gets even worse with District Five's large headdresses, shaped like solar panels. I guess we got the better costume. I should be thankful, but it's something else they'll remember. By flying under the radar, I'll probably survive longer.

I see a Capitolite scream someone's name, and I turn, curious. The District Eight chariot is close behind, their costumes hidden beneath velvet blue robes that spill over the sides of the machine. My eyes meet the girl, Angora, I believe. A sweet smile peels on her face as she waves gently. For some reason, I seem to wave back.

"Oh, you've made a friend," Ash suddenly speaks, and it's only then that I notice Ash is looking behind as well. "Good. She seems alright. At least she waved back."

"I d-didn't..." I say, but the chariot halts abruptly. Ash chuckles again and I quickly look forward, feeling flustered.

Off to such a great start. If only I had someone I could talk to. I can only bottle so many things up.

* * *

**Jem Calvert, District Three Male.**

* * *

"Welcome tributes!"

"Welcome tribute," I scoff. "And welcome to the place that'll be cheering for your blood, but it's okay, because we're all so super pretty and awesome blah blah blah."

Sienna sniggers from my side. "I like you. You're a good person."

"Thanks," I grin, proudness swelling in my chest. "People often think I'm annoying. I don't see why."

"No no, I like it, it enhances your character," she continues quietly, both of our eyes locked on the towering lady up on the podium. "I like people with quirks. They provide the better conversations with their mannerisms and quirks."

I soon zone out of Sienna's talking, something in the distance catching my eye. It's the girl from District Nine, a couple of chariots to the side. She's smiling softly, hands clasped in front of her. She looks nice. There is something about her. Then, her district partner turns towards us. He seems to smirk and tip his head back. Anger boils inside of me; did he just look down at me? I hate when people do that!

"Well he's an asshole," I say, cutting through whatever Sienna was talking about. She looks in the direction I point, eyes curious. "He just gave me a dirty look. If he done it to my face, rather than being a coward and using distance, I would've punched that smug look from his face." I practically growl.

"Good. Go get him, Jem!" Sienna encourages.

I like Sienna. She seems really cool, and a lot like Amaran. I kinda miss Amaran and Nico, more so Amaran though. But Sienna is a comfort because she likes me. It's hard, because people don't tend to like my personality. She call me slow or stupid. It's all because of our stereotype, the quiet, shy, nerdy children. But, because I wasn't that, I was seen as odd. Even my parents treated me like I couldn't do anything right, like I was only good for whatever accolade I brought home.

"I wish you all luck. And may the odds be ever in your favor." Esmeralda finishes, stepping down.

"I wish you all luck. And may the odds be ever in your favor, but really, I've already picked the Victor blah blah blah." I chuckle in a baby voice, trying to ease away my anger. Sienna laughs again, before the chariot lurches forward. Sienna can't help but laugh again. "What's so funny?" I ask, smiling.

She bites onto her lip, hiding away her smirk. "I'm just excited. With you, I feel like we may have fun! And your imitations are hilarious!"

I bow, almost smacking my head. Sienna giggles again and I join. "Thank you," I say between laughs. "I-I just want to ease the tension."

Truth is, I do. This all sucks. If I can make it a little better before it all goes underwater, then I'll be happy. Neither Nico or Amaran would want to see me depressed. They'd want to see the chirpy, ditzy Jem that joined their unique friendship and family, not some shell that looks like me. As the chariot enters the Remake Centre, I hop down, Sienna leaping behind me. Our tight suits provide the best movement, so when I see Micro and Mercury coming over, I bend over. Sienna gets it instantly and leap-frogs over me, giggles and laughter erupting through the silence in the large room.

"You both look happy," Mercury smiles, and Micro nods in agreement. "I take it it all went well?"

I look to Sienna, who nods. "Yeah, I just it did. It can only get worse, though, right?" both of their faces fall. "Well we better make the most of it, before it's too late. Sienna, I'll race you!"

Sienna runs off, but Micro places a hand on my shoulder, halting me. "Jem."

"Aw, I'm going to lose now," I frown, turning to my mentor. "What? Hurry up, I can't let her win."

"You need to realise that, sooner or later, you'll have to take this more seriously," his tone is dangerously serious. Kinda reminds me of my Father. "Just... remember that, okay?" Mercury nods from his side, like they're suddenly ganging up against me.

"Sure," I shrug, smile wavering. "I mean, it's not like I'm not going to train or anything. I do want to go home, you know. I have reasons and people just like everyone else," I suddenly feel defensive. I broaden my shoulders and chest, to show them I mean business. "You have nothing to worry about!"

* * *

**Venice Woitel, District Six Female.**

* * *

Rhett growls again. I struggle to turn to him, the suit blocking me from basically anything. It's frustrating and I have to tell myself that it'll be over in a second. Then, Rhett growls again.

"Sorry," he mutters. "I can't help it. Vocal Tic and all."

I don't say anything. I'm by far not in the mood to argue, but bottling it up is better. I never win anything I start to begin with. It's just my bitter luck that everything happened to me, then I was reaped, my district partner seems to be vividly annoying on most occasions but I feel bad for even thinking of saying something, and to top it all off, I'm trapped in a box on a chariot, paraded around.

The chariot pulls to a stop. The lights shower down, bouncing the reflective surface of our costumes against us. For a moment, it blinds me, and I struggle to move away.

"Here," a rough hand grasps mine, practically yanking me from the chariot. I land on my feet hard, Constance's face meeting mine. "This costume is ridiculous. I don't know what Pavlova was thinking when she wanted to dress you us as metal shipping containers."

I shrug as Rhett stumbles down behind me, almost landing flat on his face. "It sounded like a good idea until I got the costume on. Then I just think... well, it's odd, to say the least." I answer honestly, one of the only times I've ever done so.

"Yeah, well, Capitol idiots for you," she grunts. "At least you did well. I didn't see any other problem except psycho's noises," she looks at Rhett, who shrinks into his costume. "But well done girl. Your performance was above average. You may just get some sponsors."

I highly doubt it. I don't exactly have the greatest of luck. It why the inside of me is bitter and angry all the time, but I can't show it. I can't show it because it's easier to hide what I feel, then say it aloud. Life sucks and complaining about it only seems to get me slapped even harder with problems. I smile weakly as Constance helps me from the costume, leaving me in the tight-skin black outfit underneath. She goes behind me to do Rhett.

As she pulls it up, his growl turns into a meow. "Seriously. Shut yourself up for once." she argues, but he only meows again.

"I'm sorry! It's not my fault!"

"Complete psycho," she says under her breath, plucking it over his head and long, black bangs. "You need to cut it out. This isn't the attention we want. You're making Venice look bad, you know!"

I instantly feel bad for Rhett, whose cheeks turn red. But, then again, she's right. Another good luck charm for me. If everything could go wrong, it would, just to spite me. It's as if some higher being really wants to see me ruined. Constance abruptly leaves Rhett, walking away. I look at him, expecting an answer. "I growled again." he says ashamed, bowing his head.

An alliance between us is out of the question. It's very man - or woman, in my case - for themselves. Rhett will probably drag me down, and since I'll probably face my own disasters and problems in there, I don't need to add another. But, I smile. "It's okay," I say, attempting to be a comfort. "I'm sure she'll get used to it."

"It's not like I don't try to be normal. Vocal Tic and all." he replies, sullen.

My hand twitches. This is all too much. I literally cannot cope with everything. Rhett's sudden depression over his weirdness. The expectations. The doomed failures. A crappy home life that, for some reason, I badly want to return to and now, I could die in a few days. It's hard not to feel pressured or agitated. I take a deep breath and count to ten.

I can do this. I've been through worse; the arena will be a walk in a park. A dangerous, deadly, killer around every corner park. But still. Easy.

Yeah right. Nothing for me is ever easy.

* * *

**Aubrey Turner, District Ten Female.**

* * *

Our chariot soon pulls in, and Haven bounds from the carriage, ignoring the straw hat the floats from his head. "Glad that's over," he grumbles, stripping the outer, plaid shirt off. "Where's the mentors?"

"They're probably somewhere. I can't imagine that they'd want to miss us dressed up as fools. Well, the other tributes at least." I answer.

"Yeah, who wouldn't want to miss a bunch of teenagers dressed up for a killing party. Oh, I'm sorry, did I say that aloud?" he rolls his eyes. "I can't believe this is actually happening."

Likewise. It's hard to think that, just this morning, I was back in District Ten, bidding my parents goodbye as I went to the reaping. I didn't have to take any tessarae; our family didn't need it. But it's going to be hard. I'm don't really talk to people that much. They always think I'm talking down to them, but I don't mean to. I think it, but I never mean to say it... I guess my brain to mouth just likes to abuse me.

Macaulay soon walks over, as the last two chariots pull in. A smile seems permanently planted on his face. "You guys did great," he beams, but Haven only snorts. "Quit that. You're not a pig."

I scan over his shoulder, trying to find Oxford, but the younger boy is nowhere to be seen. I idly watch as Macaulay tends to berating Haven about something. It feels weird, like I'm some wallflower, but I'm used to that. It's nicer to fade into the background than standout. Unfortunately, Haven isn't hard to miss with striking looks and a bad attitude, so I'll always be remembered as that "bad boy's district partner, the boring one". I guess it makes me feel better, but not that much. My stomach continues to knot as Haven storms away.

"He's going to drive me into an early grave," Macaulay sighs. "At least you aren't any trouble."

I smile slightly. "Thank you."

"Come on, let's help you down," I take his hand to help me down, feeling the cloth rub against my bare skin. Tears soon spring at my eyes, but I swallow them down. "I think that we should talk about training. Do you have any ideas?" he asks.

"I was just... I don't know. I might just go around and try what I can. Anything that's better than survival skills."

"They're just as important," he warns me as we walk towards the elevator. "Shouldn't knock it until you try it, Aubrey."

"I already know, but I think I know what's better." I reply, but it comes off colder than I wanted. I hold my tongue as the doors close.

An awkward silence follows as we rise. I can tell that Macaulay has taken it to heart. I doubt he's emotional, but people have always taken it to heart. One time, when I upset the girl in my class when I was younger, my parents told me that they'd fix it. The next day, the girl was all over me, showing me the brand new doll her parents had brought her.

The doors open. Macaulay steps out, turning to face me. "Aubrey. I don't know if you know, but you might want to be careful when you talk to people."

I nod curtly, walking away before he continues. I already know that. But, I guess, it's not like I have to make friends here. It's all about winning, not how well liked you are. I sigh, passing Haven's room. I stop abruptly, watching him as he sits on the bed, looking down at something in his hands.

Then, his head snaps up and his eyes lighten. "Checking out the merchandise?" he smirks.

I swallow thickly. "Hardly. I was just... wondering if you were okay, that's all."

"Why wouldn't I be?" he smiles casually. "I'm perfect. I couldn't be anymore perfect. You can come be perfect with me, if you wanted?" he adds with a wink.

"I think I'll pass. I have better things to do."

"Ouch, burn," he laughs. I grab his door handle, pulling it shut. "It's okay. The chase is the best part!" he hollers, before I close the door.

I slowly walk down to my room and go inside, locking the door. I need to be alone. It's so overwhelming, I'm surprised I haven't just broken down. I take a few deep breaths and fall down onto my bed. I don't know how I'm going to cope, whether I'm alone or with someone.

* * *

**Corin Roscoe, District Nine Male.**

* * *

I stir the powder and milk together, a sweet treat that reminds me of home. It's not like I wish that poverty-stricken, damp place that always brought me down, but the good memories usually stem from mornings where I had a milkshake ready, on stand. I pop the straw into the glass, making sure that Sian and Nicolet look over, their eyes watching with confusion. "What?" I ask innocently.

"Why are you using a straw?" Nicolet asks. I smile, placing the glass down. "You're ridiculous."

"I'd like to think I'm witty, alluring and mysterious." I counter.

"And I'd like to think - and I know - that you're ridiculous," she rolls her eyes. "You're no better than the rest of us. You don't need to be so almighty."

Truth is, I probably am better than the rest of them. I might not have worked my entire life, but my Father pulled us from poverty. Any of the others could do exactly the same, except the hicks seem to enjoy their simple way of life. "There's no need to be so hostile, Nic." I smile sweetly, hoping to win her heart so she'll shut up. Maybe if I'm sweet enough, she'll give me all of Sian's sponsor money, since she won't need it. I can practically hear the bloodbath calling her name.

"Call me Nicolet, not Nic." she answers, just as hostile as before.

I admit defeat by refusing to talk back. She's not going to be an easy win. My eyes fall on Sian, curled up on the couch. I bet she'll be easy.

"Hey Sian," I purr, catching her attention. "Do you think you could get me some fruit? I'm famished."

"Sure." she smiles, standing up and walking across the room.

"Don't think I don't know your game," Nicolet says when Sian is out of sight. "You can't play everyone you meet, rich boy."

"I don't know what you mean," I decide to play innocent. "I'm not trying to do anything. I think you're looking for an excuse to dislike me, Nic. Sian soon reappears and Nicolet glowers, but concedes. Sian hands me an apple. "Thank you." I make sure to touch her hand, turning her cheeks a tinted pink.

Sian will get killed because of her kindness. I can see it now; she'll hand the knife to the killer, encouraging them to stab her. She's also extremely gullible for falling for my tricks. If she asked around in District Nine, she'd realise that I get free candy and can have a massage whenever I like; I just have to ask one of the many girls who have fallen as well. Sian is far too flawed to be getting out of the arena alive.

"I think you should both get an early night. You'll be expected down there early tomorrow." Nicolet warns. Come to think of it, I think Remy went to bed early. Probably because he's realised that there's no point to him being here at all. Nicolet is probably the only important one but she's a bitch, thinking she's better than me. At least I come from money, compared to Nicolet who "stumbled" upon hers by being reaped.

I rise from my seat, Nicolet's eyes following me. "Sweet dreams, Nic." I smile, still playing the game.

She only glares as I leave the room. Behind me, I hear Sian follow, footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. Her door opens and then it closes, leaving me alone. I can't help but stop, turning back. An idea pops into my head and I hurry for Sian's door, swinging it open.

She shrieks, startled. "Sorry," I laugh casually. "Just wanted to say sweet dreams. Come down in the elevator with me, yeah?" I add smoothly.

She blushes again. "Sure," she stutters. "I'd love to."

"Just perfect," I grin. "Well, goodnight," I step out and closed the door, seeing Nicolet standing warily by hers. "Have a nice night." I call to her as I walk ahead to my room.

This won't be that hard. I'm sure Sian will fall head over heels for me. From there, I practically have a human shield. Considering how kind she is, she might even sacrifice her life for mine. Yeah, that'd be awesome.

* * *

**Carnelian Ritter, District One Male.**

* * *

"Good luck boy," Aphrodite says, her tone eerie. She knew of what Caine said through his mentor, and now, she looks at me with such expectations, I can't help but feel pressured. Swift was even kind enough to tell me that the leaders always die early. "Just show them that you're strong. Ignore Swift. It's because it's too early, and his beauty sleep was ineffective clearly."

"Thank you," I say as I step inside the elevator. "I'll do the best that I can. No-one has seen a leader like me."

Temperance bounds into the small space, just before the doors close. I last see Aphrodite lips peeling into a sad smile.

The ride down to the Training Centre is quiet. I flex my fingers over and over, nerves rocketing inside of me. Despite a conversation with Caine, I'm still not sure about becoming the leader. It's always expected for someone in District Two to take the reign. But he willingly thrusted the position onto me, and now, I can feel the pressure. I just need to hide it behind a smile.

I glance over at Temperance again. She hasn't said a single word. "Um, Temperance," I begin. Instantly, I can tell she doesn't want to talk, but I need to ask. "Swift said that you might not be coming into the alliance. Is that true?"

She looks at me. "What kind of alliance is an alliance when people will die in said alliance?"

I can't stop my face from contorting into confusion. "W-What?"

"It's like waiting to die with the people you should trust the most," she recites, like she's reading a letter or something. She doesn't even speak that much, but clearly when she does, it's like this. She turns to me, her face shaping into a serious look, eyes as wide as possible, head tilted back. "It's not worth it. It's better to drive the knife in yourself than wait for the trusted person to twist it in your back."

"Excuse me? Y-You haven't answered my question?"

The elevator doors open and Temperance escapes, fleeing like an animal. I'm going to take her answer as a no. I frown, following the direction she went. Tributes begin to pour from the other doors. I notice Caine and Nelida almost instantly, the pair miles apart. Caine smiles slightly as I go towards him.

"Did you ask Temperance?" he asks straightaway. I put on a polite smile and shake my head. "Ah, so we've lost someone already."

Calder and Kiara soon join us. If anyone might've left, it would've been Calder. They stand awkwardly at our sides, Kiara clinging to Calder's arm desperately.

It's amazing at how detached we are; maybe it'll get better once we know each other more, but then maybe not. Caine seems nice. Nelida, well, she's lonesome, but I doubt she's against us. Calder looks very sullen, but it's Kiara that seems to be some sort of light. "Come on guys!" she chirps, still holding onto Calder. "Even if Temperance isn't joining us, I'm sure people are just dying to be part of our alliance."

"Not necessarily." Calder mutters bitterly.

"No, she's right," I speak up, knowing that every bone in my body is telling how wrong this is. I shouldn't be the leader; I don't trust my abilities enough. I should be better. No, Caine should be leader, but it's me. I'll just have to show them what I'm made of. It's a great way to prove myself and my worth! "There are a few likely candidates. We just need to choose carefully."

"And what do you suggest?" Caine cuts in. "I doubt people are going to be throwing confetti in the air. Plus, I don't think anyone looks nice enough."

My eyes fall on Kiara. "Well, either me or Kiara. Both of us could get someone, right?" I smile sweetly.

"Totally! Oh oh, we should make a challenge of it!" she answers enthusiastically.

"Attention tributes!" a louder voice booms. Everyone turns to attention, Kiara's giggly face fading behind Calder's taller figure. I turn, standing straight and making sure to smile. "My name is Maestro. In this room, today, tomorrow and the next day, will be something that could save you. I suggest you take this to your advantage and venture out appropriately. Remember, disease and other variables can kill just as swiftly as a knife. You'd be idiots to not look at the survival skills."

I look around, everyone looking glum. Even my allies don't look chipper. It's my leadership, I think bitterly, I'm not motivating them enough.

I'll have to make sure that they get better. For the sake of the alliance, I need them to feel better about this. I'll make it my mission!

* * *

**Angora Knight, District Eight Female.**

* * *

I can't tear my eyes away from the books, assorted on the floor in front of another station. I only noticed them when the girl from District Eleven had glanced over a few, before carelessly tossing them aside, calling them useless.

I go back to the book in my hand, flipping the cryptic pages, closely written lines about the different types of plants and animals. According to the trainer, you read these, and then you can take a test on it on the computer screen nearby, the same one that allows you to dissect woodland creatures to learn about pressure points and important veins and arteries.

"These are fascinating," I mutter in awe, running my fingers along the battered leather. Not many books are around, even in District Eight. Only school textbooks and work guides. But luckily, there are some, which were passed down through the generations. A "Murder-Mystery" was always my favourite. I enjoyed working out the clues and guessing the murderer before it ever happened. But, rules were strict. As much as I wanted to jump up and down and just tell everyone about it, I couldn't. If the Peacekeepers knew, they'd assume treason or something horrid. "Really something else."

"They're impressive, aren't they?" the trainer inquires. "Not many people care for books, seeing as they're basically textbooks."

"I like them," I smile. "I only wish I could take it with me."

"I can always keep it aside for you, if you wish to read it tomorrow?" the aging man asks. He seems so kind, not like the horrible rumours that I've heard about Capitolites.

"Would you?" I gasp. "Thank you so much. I really appreciate it, sir!"

I pass him the book and he scurries behind the station, tucking it under the sheet. He smiles toothy before going back to his business.

I flick through some of the other books, certain things catching my eye as I read them more thoroughly. After an hour or so, I know all about medical stuff such as bandages and handling infections, as well as the best type of knife to use for butchering and skinning. It's disgusting; but I've read worse. Hopefully I won't be pushed to that extreme, though the odds are probably high. It's sad when you're forced into something you know you'll hate. I like animals as well.

"Hi," a small squeak comes. I turn, the District Seven girl shrinking into herself. Her curly, dark hair falls over her face, masking the insecurities I can practically feel. "I-I was wondering if I c-could sit with you. Maybe. You can say no." she mutters.

"Don't be silly!" I grin, patting the ground. "Come sit with me. I can show you some things, if you want?"

She sits down carefully, still looking small. "What's in these books?"

"Learning stuff. Kinda boring but it doesn't matter too much," I smile, trying to open her up. She seems so scared. "You don't have to be afraid. I'm not dangerous or anything." I laugh.

But, I can see where she might be coming from. It's terrifying, knowing that someone will survive and the rest will be in coffins. I'm surprised no-one has ever realised that before. I guess I just have to hope I'll be that one winner. Even though that means this poor girl here will die... and Jute, and he's really nice... but it's the way we gotta go about things, I suppose.

I show the girl the books, pointing at the stuff that could be life-changing.

The bell blares, signalling lunch. "I never even asked you your name," I say as we stand. She stands taller this time, like she's more confident or at least comfortable. I can't help but smile, proud that she's a little more at ease. "I'm Angora, in case you didn't know. I waved to you during the chariots, remember?"

"Yeah, I do," she laughs lightly as we walk towards the canteen. The other tributes soon come along, and I wave in the distance to Jute, though he doesn't notice. "I'm Quinn. Quinn Tarly."

"Come sit with me?" I ask. "I don't know anyone else but my district partner, and he's a little... unconventional."

"Okay," she answers after a pause. A small smile creeps onto her face. Not a big one, barely noticable, but I can see it. It's a very good sign that makes me smile again. "I'd like that."

* * *

**Reed Wolfe, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

I quickly throw the ropes onto the floor, forgetting all motives I had. When that bell rings, my stomach responds.

Living in District Eleven has taught me one thing - that, when food is on offer, you stuff your face for what it's worth. You don't stop until you might literally explode. Whatever you can't eat, you stuff in your pockets and take home to the family.

I take my seat at the closest table near the door, setting down the tray on my table. Tributes begin to come in slowly, no-one really in pairs or groups. Even the supposed "Careers" come in two little groups, separated by the District Nine girl who looks sheepish, caught between.

When the last tribute is in, I lose a little hope. I hadn't bothered to ask Onatah to join me, because she seemed pretty closed in actually talking to me in the first place. I just think she's a little frosty. I'm pretty good at prying people from their shells, but any attempt, Onatah would crush it between her fingers. She's a pretty dangerous chick, even Kane thinks so.

"Yo," a voice says, causing me to almost spill my gelatin. I blink a few times, looking up at Cypress from District Twelve. I smile proudly; I had Kane teach me the names of all the tributes. Cypress I only remember because of that long, straggly blonde hair. "Mind if I sit here man? Place is full."

I glance over my shoulder. He's right; because everyone is alone, most people are sitting by themselves. Obviously, like me, he doesn't trust his district partner enough. "Nah, it's cool," I smile. "I'm Reed."

"Cypress," he jerks his hand across the table, which I eagerly shake. "God, I'm exhausted. It was not cool waking up so damn early."

I smirk. "You wouldn't survive a minute in District Eleven. I was up most mornings by the crack of dawn, sometimes even earlier, just to collect the orders and go picking."

Cypress snorts. "Fair play. Nah, I got to sleep in at home. They didn't even want me to get a job."

"Lucky." I gasp. I guess conditions in District Twelve aren't nearly as bad as they are in District Eleven.

"Guess not," he smiles smugly, shovelling a fork of meat into his mouth. "You been training with anyone today?"

I actually haven't. I guess finding an ally wasn't the first thing for me. I don't know, I kinda got enticed to spend time with a young trainer over at the net station. "Nah," I answer honestly. "I wanted to try out some weapons, but the Careers would be on me like a shot, desperate to make me look bad," I can't help but frown. "I tried to go towards the swords, but Caine from District Two looks too menacing."

Cypress snorts again. "They're all still the same age as us. It's not like they're invincible. I mean, come on, they don't always win and for tributes who claim to be trained, they sure aren't living up to their hype of dark, stormy and dangerous. I mean, look at her," he points towards Kiara from District Four, who throws her head back and giggles. "One little push and she'd crumble like a cookie."

I guess he's right. I mean, they have a heart and blood and everything. If roles were reversed, I'm sure they would've been as weary as the rest of us. Their name keeps them feared, that's all.

"Come with me after lunch. I'll show you a thing or two about how to piss people off and have fun with it," he smiles, but it's kinda wicked looking. I like Cypress, he seems cool. I nod along. "Cool. Let's show the Capitol how us outer boys do things."

We hurry to eat our lunch. Cypress even makes a point about lobbing a piece of mash over towards the Careers, just to see who will fall victim to it. I have to literally pry the spoon from his hand, whilst crying with laughter.

As the bell goes again, signalling the second half, Cypress stands up. "Follow me, my good man. Might as well live a little. After all this oppression bullshit, we deserve some fun."

And, I do.

* * *

**Tierna Rowe, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

I can't get out. Each time I get close, the light moves away. The black abyss around me tries to swallow me whole. I try to scale the wall, but my fingers tingle, a numb sensation that stops me in my tracks.

I doubt I'll ever get out. I'll never leave this place. This is my darkness, my hell, and it will always be a part of me.

"Excuse me?"

I snap from my mind. The lady in front of me looks stern, lips pressed into a line. "Pardon?"

"I said, excuse me," she narrows her eyes. "If you don't want to take this seriously, then I suggest you leave. There are other people who would love to know how to tell the difference between poisonous berries and safe ones."

I can't stop myself from laughing at that. The trainer's eyes narrow even further. "I-I'm sorry," I struggle to breathe, trying to stop my laughter. "That's... you just don't hear that very often. Oh God," I wipe away a tear from my eye. "But yeah. Sorry. I'll go now."

I can hear the trainer sneer as I leave her. I don't even know why I went over there; it seems rather pointless. You just don't eat things from your surroundings, only from your backpack. Simple. It's not exactly hard. I mean, I'm sure a beef jerky parcel is only a small amount of currency that anyone - even Crispin - could afford to save a starving tribute. I don't know, maybe I'm just looking at it differently. When I turn around, I notice that the girls from District Eight and Seven are now there, looking through the books the lady has to offer them.

So, they're an alliance. I can't stop myself from frowning. I didn't expect people to band together so soon, well, except the Careers at least.

It just makes the darkened hole even prominent.

I don't want to be alone. I bite down on my lip and look around the room. Each time my eyes ghost over a male tribute, I can feel the heated blush on my cheeks. Definitely not a good idea; I'll end up a blubbering mess the entire time. No, I need a girl. Someone who I feel comfortable with but won't pry and ask too many questions. It's only then, do I notice, the girl from District Three, perched up high on a barrel.

She just looks around at the room with a keen eye. When she looks at me, she glares. Oops, maybe a bit too unfriendly. But I need an ally. Maybe she'll be nicer if we speak. So, putting on a confident smile that feels too false, I walk towards her. As I near, she leaps from the barrel, landing perfectly. "What's your name?" she inquires hastily.

I blink a few times. "Tierna, District Twelve."

"I can tell. It's on your outfit," she points out, and I force down the embarrassment on my cheeks once more. "I'm Sienna. District Three, if you couldn't tell."

I guess she acts how you react. I peel my lips into a bigger smile, chuckling a little. "You must think of me as an idiot. First impressions aren't my strongest point." I laugh.

Sienna's own lips peel into a smile. "It's perfectly fine!" she chirps, brushing deep red hair from her eyes. "I never know how to act around people unless they speak first. It's, like, one of my pet peeves, you know? I act how they act."

I laugh louder this time, attracting a few stares. "I totally understand. Do you mind if I stay with you for a while? Kinda getting lonely over there."

"Sure," she beams. "I was just practising on the assault course. You're welcome to join me in a race, if you'd like?"

A race for the light. I know that tale far too well. I'll never reach it, though. Within reaching distance, it will travel back miles. But I simply nod in return, keeping the smile on my face. A race could be good. An ally even better. By increasing that light, I might be able to escape.

* * *

**Lyle Flinch, District Five Male.**

* * *

I scramble through the room, throwing sheets and pillows onto the floor. Where is it? Panic rises in my chest and it suddenly becomes harder to breathe. I flop onto my bed, defeated. I can't believe I lost it. It was the one thing that I couldn't lose, I needed it, if not for me then my Dad. He loved that ring. It was a family heirloom, passed down from my great-grandfather's sister, a Victor.

I can't believe I lost it! I'm so stupid. I roll over onto my stomach, still scanning the drawers and floor. Maybe it fell down? But I took it to training with me. I could've lost it down there, when I was testing out the fire station. Oh no, I could've burned it. I melted down my own token by accident!

"Lyle, are you okay?" I turn around, Elesa pressed against the doorframe. Her eyes scan the room, well, the mess I caused. I quickly stand, feeling guilty. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm so sorry, Miss Azel," I apologise. "I'll clean it up straightaway. I just, I can't find my token. I-I don't know where I could've put it."

Elesa nods. "Well, I can ask an Avox to take a message downstairs. Maybe you left it in training with you, granted you took it?" I quickly nod. "Okay, just try not to panic. Ask Nebula and Audra to help you."

Quietly, Elesa leaves the hallway. I stand for a moment, contemplating all the things that could've happened. It's no use. If I've lost it, I've lost it. I'll probably never find it now.

Nebula soon appears at the room. Again, I apologise. "I'm sorry Miss Winersh, I just-"

"It's fine, honestly," she smiles. "I'll come and help you look. I'm pretty good at finding things. My little brothers always misplaced my belongings, it became a challenge and, I guess, like a game," she begins to dig through the doors, pulling out all of my Capitol-assigned clothes, tossing them into a heap on the floor. When it's empty, she looks up, puzzled. "Where did you have it last?"

I scan my mind quickly. I took it with me into training, I remember that because I showed Audra, telling her about my descendant, Cameron Flinch. Then... then I don't know where it went. It should've gone back into my pocket. I absently pat my sides. Nope, not there.

"You know, Lyle, you're probably the first ever tribute to actually lose their token whilst still in the Capitol," Nebula comments as she bends over. I stick my tongue out, but there's no point. She's right. "Elesa has sent an Avox down."

"Thanks. I-I just don't know how it c-could've happened, you know?" I frown. Nebula leans up, patting me on the shoulder.

Audra soon appears at the door. "What happened?" she asks quietly.

"Crayons for brains here has lost his token," Nebula answers for me, her words like a hammer to my heart. That's a bit mean and I can't stop my frown from growing. "He doesn't know where he put it."

Audra tenses slightly. "I c-could help, if you wanted me to?"

"Oh, are you two allies then?" Nebula beams, snapping her mirth eyes between us. I nod, forcing a smile. It's something me and Audra agreed on quickly, particularly after seeing the competition. Everyone seems tall and muscular, and then me and Audra... well, we aren't. It made sense. "That's just wonderful. It's been years since we've had district partners that are allies. Usually, one wants the other dead!"

I look to Audra awkwardly and she smiles just as much, stepping into the room. She carefully begins to look through the closet. Nebula, however, throws something into the air.

"Well I think it's lost," she lets us know. A knot forms in my chest, bringing a lump to my throat. I can't believe I was stupid enough to lost it. "I'll go see if Elesa has had any luck. Stay here."

She quickly leaves and Audra looks up. "I-I'm sorry, about your token." she mutters.

"Don't be. It's not like you stole it or anything," I offer a smile, which only makes her seem more sad. "Come on. You don't have to help me," I step forward, placing my hand on her shoulder. "Let's go raid the food cart for ice cream or something."

I lead her out of the room, guiding her by her shoulders. I look back at the mess, praying that the ring is somewhere in that mess.

Without it, I've lost the one thing that connected me to home. The Capitol has already managed to steal one thing from me. It's only a matter of time before they want my life.

* * *

******Yellow Light by Of Monsters and Men.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is_ ffyl hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**__****Thoughts on these twelve tributes, and which ones are your early favourites (obviously it will change, just from this glance)?**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Welcome to the first Capitol chapter! This was fun. I love these tributes, especially these twelve. If one of these twelve were your tribute, tell me how the characterization was!**

**Alliances will be updated on the blog as the story goes along. So far, the only confirmed ones are Angora+Quinn, Sienna+Tierna and the Careers without Temperance. Reed+Cypress might not actually be allies yet, they're just training together.**

**Next chapter covers our last two days of training! Also, if you're waiting for Lost, you only have a few more days, promise!**


	5. Hey You

**Hey You.**

_Hey you, don't help them bury you alive. Don't give in without a fight._

* * *

**Rhett Emery, District Six Male.**

* * *

When the light suddenly burns through the curtains, I jerk away. My eyes snap to the window, Constance stood there with her hand clasped around the material.

I blink a few times. "Why?" I ask simply.

"You need to get a move on, psycho boy," she smiles grimly. "If you sleep any longer, your brain will turn to mush. Not that it probably isn't already," she adds as a growl escapes my lips. Her eyes widen, and a dry laugh escapes her throat. "Psycho."

"I'm not a psycho," I reply defensively. "Vocal Tic and all."

"Up. Get changed, breakfast, right now. Move, psycho boy." Constance says, leaving the room briskly.

I sigh heavily and rush to get changed. Throwing my training gear on, I move out to the main area, where Lorcan, Constance and Venice sit, nobody talking. You could cut the tension with a knife. Awkwardly, I move to my seat. No-one even spares me a glance. I frown, scooping some cereal into my mouth. I don't mean to be different. It's not like I wanted this stupid vocal tic! I just want to be accepted. And this... this thing keeps anyone from seeing that I'm a pretty decent guy.

"Allies?" Lorcan suddenly says. Constance looks up at him.

"Really?" she deadpans. "Okay then, we'll discuss that now. Venice?" Venice hums, looking up. "Have you thought of allies?"

She shrugs her tiny shoulders. "I don't know. I don't really want to think about it all that, to be perfectly honest."

"You do realise that you only two days?" Constance inputs. When Venice returns to her meal quietly, she scoffs. "What about you, psycho?"

I inwardly frown, feeling my chest knot. No-one would want me. I'm too much of a liability. If we're hiding, I'd just growl and we'd be found. Sponsors aren't going to sponsor someone who is so drastically different to normal teenagers. I'm basically hopeless. "I might find an alliance," I bite on my lip, debating whether or not to tell her, in fear of ridicule. "The boys from Eleven and Twelve. They looked really cool."

When I saw them yesterday, I couldn't help but look up at them. They both would seem like the cool guys at school, the same ones who bullied me but that I wanted to be a part of so desparately. I doubt they'll accept... I mean, I don't even know how I'd ask them. I shrink into my chair when I see Constance's coy smile. "Really?"

I nod shakily. Lorcan coughs, cutting in. "I think it's a good idea, Rhett. Good luck."

I smile softly. "Thank you," I reply. Another growl breaks through my lips, and all hope drains from my face. "Sorry." I apologise, bowing my head.

Constance scoffs. Lorcan goes quiet. Even Venice - next to me - totally ignores my annoyance. I guess, after a while, belittling me over it will grow bored. I sigh again, continuing with my breakfast. I need allies, no matter the burden I might be. I take a few deep breaths and try to calm down, forcing any notion of noises down my throat.

I could just ask them. They seem cool and I want to be with people who might laugh and be easy, people who would see my vocal problems and laugh, rather than groan. I smile softly; yeah, they'd probably love it, something to chuckle over. I guess there's no time like the present to possibly ruin your life!

Venice soon stands and I follow. Constance gives Venice a good luck pat, but I get nothing more than a condescending look as the elevator doors close. I squeak, the noise deafening in a small space.

"Sorry." I mutter to Venice, for what must be the umpteenth time. She must be sick of me already and it's only been two days. I can't blame her; my old group of friends shunted me for this.

I can only hope that people will see a different side to me.

* * *

**Jute Phillips, District Eight Male.**

* * *

The tall, rope structure looms in front of me, connected up to the ceiling. My gaze follows the lithe string, stretching out in impossible twists and turns. It looks like something out of a story or mind.

"Are you going to do it or not?" the trainer deadpans.

I barely pick up his words before I grasp the rope. I position my footing, before heaving my body up. A few other tributes are climbing about as well, awkwardly grasping and falling. I can't help but smile as my footing misses, causing me to stumble into the collection of ropes. It's so magnificent. I wonder how people made this? It must have been hard to build, let alone set-up. I imagine the guy or gal that designed this really had a clever imagination. I would've loved to have met them.

The girl from District Ten - or it could be Nine, I'm not sure now. Maybe even Six, cause I'm sure they're all the same person - soon nears me as I scramble further and further upwards, adrenaline pumping. When I grab the same rope her foot is on, it causes her footing to stutter, and she falls downwards, tumbling through the ropes until she catches onto one further down.

I blink a few times. "Sorry!" I call down. The girl looks up, eyes narrowed.

"That wasn't nice," she says, climbing back up. "You saw that I was on that rope. You could've waited."

"I honestly didn't see you." I reply, holding her gaze with a lighter version. "I'm Jute, in case you wanted to meet your maker," I laugh, but she doesn't find it funny. "Hey, that was funny."

"Aubrey," she coolly replies. "Now, if you don't mind, I want to reach the top."

My joke was funny. I mean, I am her maker, because I knocked her off. Totally accidental though. I barely saw her foot as I grabbed the rope. And, heck, I didn't mean for her to stumble and then fall. I was aiming for the top just like her. My eyes flick upwards, towards the bell. I really want to ring that bell. I don't know if any other tribute has done it before, but it'd be nice to be the first this year, at least! I start to move upwards, not noticing Aubrey is following.

"I'm going for the bell first." she interjects, but I barely listen, continuing my climb. "Excuse me, I said I'm going for that bell first."

Again, I don't listen. Her words are just mumbles. Oh, she's still talking. As I scramble higher and higher, her grating voice drifts away. My fingers grasp around the string, and pull, the bell sounding out. I cheer loudly, pumping my fist... until my foot soon wavers and I fall. I pass Aubrey's moving form as I desperately cling to the nearest rope.

My eyes narrow. I should say something. But, she's close to the bell. I really wanted to ring that bell first. I didn't think she'd take it so personally. Aubrey seems kind of determined, if not expecting.

I wonder what the point is with the bell? Does it give you a good credit, if you can do it fastest than any other tribute? But no-one else was really trying it. I look down at the structure, a few tributes beginning their ascent. Yeah, no, it was just me and Aubrey really. I think her name is Aubrey... it might've been Audrey. She looks like an Audrey, come to think of it.

"Thank you," she mumbles, suddenly in my face. I blink a few times again. "You let me ring the bell?"

"You rang the bell?" I reply, confused. Since when did she ring the bell? Last I knew, Audrey was climbing for it, but nowhere near. Oh, she might've tripped me, like I did her. Well mine was accidental! "Oh. Congratulations, Audrey."

"It's Aubrey," she says coolly. Then, her face softens. "Did you... did you want to go and do some more things together?"

I shrug, slowly climbing down. She follows, though, ropes jiggling with movement. "Where to Audrey?"

"It's Audrey, God, do y-" she begins, but I soon zone out. I made a friend without trying. She seems interesting enough; I bet she has tons of cool stories from her district. We'll see what Audrey is like.

* * *

**Caine Pravda, District Two Male.**

* * *

Carnelian calls us over after a while. Slowly - well, everyone except Kiara who skips - walks over to our leader, who stands proudly next to the spear station. He smiles, eyeing each one of us up.

"I have found our replacement," he begins. Everyone just seems to drink in his words, not actually saying anything worthwhile. "The boy from District Ten. Haven Hemlock. After looking at many candidates, and I took everyone into account," he makes sure we know, as if we'd question him. I gave him the responsibility for a reason. "And he's our better option. He looks detached and aloof. He also looks mediocre with strength."

"I'll ask him, I'll ask him!" Kiara volunteers herself, jumping up in the air. I struggle to wonder why Kiara is so happy about all of this.

"Okay Kiara, you go," Carnelian agrees with a smile. The girl bounces up and down, before running away towards Haven's direction. When she's gone, Carnelian's smile falters. "I don't think he'll agree... Careers aren't all that popular."

Everyone nods. "Obviously," I state, stepping forward. "But we're as good as he's ever gonna get."

Compared to the others and their reasons, I don't have a solid alibi. I can't justify my choices in accepting the task. Well, I could, but I'd rather not... I'm just going to let myself believe that this is what I always wanted. I was made for this, after all. Born and bred to be a trainee, volunteer and then Victor. I know no differently. I'm a killer, not a leader. District Two training is tough, Nelida should know that as well, and once you commit, that's it. No more life. Everything takes second priority.

I glance over my shoulder. Kiara is talking to Haven, who looks mildly amused. He probably doesn't believe her. "I think we're losing him." I comment absently.

Carnelian is suddenly next to me. "No no, he can't. We need to find a replacement and he's the best candidate..." he mutters. "Damn it. Screw it, I'm going over."

Carnelian rushes away. I hide my smirk and turn back to Nelida and Calder. They stand there awkwardly for a few moments, no-one saying anything, until Nelida calmly sighs. "I think I'm going to train."

"I'll join you." Calder echoes, and the two walk off with a good distance between them.

Disconnected, I think Siryn said. Everyone is more about themselves than a unit. More the reason that Carnelian leads us. I'd probably ruin the rest of them, turn them into me, good for nothing but pain and murder. They seem nicer than that. And, even so, no-one should be like me. All those fresh faces at the Training Centre don't understand the soul-crushing commitment they'll endure.

I stay rooted. Carnelian looks over during the conversation, giving me a thumbs up. I smile slightly in return - just to please him - as he goes back to sweet-talking Haven.

Soon enough, Carnelian comes running over, looking happy. He grins from ear to ear. "Haven said yes! We have ourselves a new Career!"

"Congratulations," I nod. "You're handling her absense well."

"We have to," he looks around. "She made no attempt to tell me she wants to join."

She has the better sense of mind than the rest of us. Being in this alliance would no doubt suffocate anyone. I don't even know if I want to be here, let alone be the leader. I don't know how Carnelian could do it with a smile. Well, he won't be smiling when the rest of it comes. He'll have to be like me; do it with a calm face, just to get through. "Sorry." I offer, but Carnelian has spaced out, looking back towards Haven.

"I think he's a great addition," he seems in awe. God knows what Haven is actually thinking, joining us. "I think we done alright. Yeah, I done alright."

Then Kiara comes bounding over. "I can't believe he said yes! Let's go try the rope course!"

"Go for it, little one," Carnelian smiles, slightly patronizing. Kiara soon scurries away. "We might do alright."

Well we better, otherwise everything I've been through would've been pointless.

* * *

**Sian Amser, District Nine Female.**

* * *

The District Three boy seems happy. The running course stretches out in front of us, winding around the corners. Compared to most, he's running around with a smirk on his face, showing off impressive speed. The trainer nearby even looks impressed.

I haven't seen him with any allies, come to think of it. His district partner, that fiery redhead, she's moved onto two other girls, from Eleven and Twelve. If he's alone, he might want to speak. I wonder if he's lonely or actually content with being a loner. Taking my position, I bend down and begin to sprint after him. I hope he doesn't think I'm targeting him or anything. He just seems really nice, and I like nice people.

I soon catch up with him, his short hair being drafted by the wind. I smile and edge closer and closer, determined to make some common ground between us.

That's when my foot hits his ankle with a thud. Pain shoots up my leg and he grunts. We both tumble down onto the floor, and my back smacks onto the wooden floorboards.

"Persons down! Persons down!" an attendant shouts.

I wince, rolling over onto my stomach. The boy is now perched on his knees, looking at me curiously.

"I'm so sorry," I apologise. "I was... only trying to help..."

He laughs. "How? By throwing me to the floor?" he stands, and despite the cold words, he doesn't seem to take it badly. He moves over and offers me up with a bright smile. "It's fine. I mean, I'd love not to be tackled in training, but it's a good way to meet someone."

"I'm so sorry," I laugh awkwardly. "I was somehow just running so close to you. I didn't even know I was until it was too late. Sorry!"

"Don't be sorry. I'm fine, you're fine, we're all fine!" he finishes with a grin, just as an attendant comes rushing over. He starts to pat the boy down, who shrugs him away, like trying to swipe a pesky fly. Yet, he doesn't take the hint and continues. "I'm fine I'm fine! Jesus, you can go away now."

"It's protocol." the attendant deadpans. Soon enough, a woman is starting to pat me down with a wet cloth. Compared to the boy, though, I don't complain. I don't want to be rude.

"It's protocol," the boy mocks. "If I was in pain, don't you think I would've screamed or something?" he asks, totally serious. I stifle a laugh as the attendant's face falls. "Precisely. I'm fine. You can go away now," he then turns to me. "She's fine as well! You're all a bunch of vultures, seriously."

The woman lets go. She retreats as quickly as she came, disappearing into the mass of waiting eyes. The boy looks around, before grinning. "What?" I ask, frowning.

"I didn't even get to introduce myself before I was swarmed. I'm Jem, Jem Calvert." he offers his hand, which I take kindly.

"I'm Sian. Amser, Sian Amser," I rephrase. "Sorry."

"You say it a lot, don't you?" he smirks. I guess I really do, seeing as someone I just met points it out swiftly.

Heat rushes to my face. "Yeah," I frown slightly. I'm so used to apologising for everything. Usually, though, it's for being a burden. And by burden, I mean trying to help but obviously seeming as if I'm nagging or controlling. "So- no, I'm not going to say it. Don't laugh!" I poke, waiting Jem's face twist into a held laugh. I can't help but smile; Jem's really, really nice.

"So, Sian Amsorry," he smirks. "Did you want to try running with me? Only this time, try not to knock me down? Sound good?" he starts to talk away, looking over his shoulder at me, expecting a response.

I can't help but squeal on the inside. I don't know if this means allies or not, but at least I won't be alone. I need to talk to people, otherwise it's like I really am trapped. I nod hastily, still smiling. "I can't promise anything, Jam!"

Up front, he bursts out laughing. This could be good for the pair of us. Yeah, allies or not, I feel like I can trust him. It might be soon but oh well. I've always grown attached easily.

I just hope Jem doesn't get bored of me, because I don't want to go anywhere.

* * *

**Haven Hemlock, District Ten Male.**

* * *

The District Four girl - Kiara, or something - soon comes rushing over. "Haven, Haven," she starts. I turn around, a smile on my lips. I should roll my eyes, but I'm learning to take the opportunity as good, even though Kiara is beyond needy. "Can you help me with something?"

"Sure buttercup." I smirk, following the smaller girl to the edge of the Training Centre. She points towards a tall spear, like a little child losing a ball in a tree. "What, that one?"

"Yeah," Kiara smiles. "I want that one, but I can't reach. And the attendants kept saying that if I can't get it, it means I can't handle it. I need to prove them wrong." she adds, sweet smile turning into a wicked grin.

I stretch on the tip of my toes to grab the spear on the top of the rack. Lifting it down, Kiara seems giddy with excitement. "This'll do?"

"Thank you," she goes to rush away, but quickly turns back. "Oh. And I think Carnelian needs you. I'm not sure, I kinda zoned out. Okay bye Haven!"

Something I'm also learning about is that they're all pretty annoying in one sense or another. Carnelian tries too hard, Kiara is too needy, Caine and Calder are too serious, and Nelida is too hardened. They won't work. Frankly, I don't mind, because I'll be around for my own gain and then I'll leave. I'm not interested in something long-term; in life, relationship, allies, just everything. Short and sweet, that's my motto.

But I still walk towards Carnelian. Honestly, this alliance will probably do me good as long as they don't crack.

His smile brightens when I near. "Haven, great, just who I was looking for. I was wondering if you've had any experience?"

"Experience?" I repeat. "Well I did a little bit of training, just in case I was reaped. I thought if you guys could do it, so could I."

"Really?" Carnelian looks shocked. It's all a lie. I didn't train; I didn't even believe that I had the chance to be reaped, until it actually happened.

I nod. "Yep," I look around, noticing none of the others are here, though Caine is within hearing distance. "What did you need me for?"

Carnelian's eyes suddenly go wide. I turn, watching his district partner come walking over, the one I apparently had replaced within the alliance. A smirk forms on my face as she pushes the matted blonde hair from her eyes.

"T-Temperance?" Carnelian looks worried. I look back and forth between the two, though Temperance's eyes are locked on mine. She has an unnerving glare.

"I thought I should now give you my answer on my position," she recites. "I would like to join the Career alliance."

Carnelian's face turns red. "I can't handle this pressure..." he mutters. "C-Caine! Come here!" he shouts.

Her eyes turn to me. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" I retaliate. "Who are we all in this world?" I muse, watching a small smirk appear on her face. She likes that, clearly. Starting to think that she's more animal than human. Caine comes over, his face a mask of stone. Carnelian stands next to his side, seemingly trying to blend into the taller boy.

"Temperance wants to come back," Carnelian echoes. "I-I... Temp, there isn't a spot for you anymore," he steps back from Caine, having grown some balls. "You didn't give me an answer. I needed to replace you."

Her eyes become even more unnerving as she looks between Carnelian, and then to me. "Is he my replacement?" she asks, voice low. She widens her eyes to a ridiculous stretch. "Allies will always kill other allies. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. That's what they always tell you about the dog-eat-dog world that is known as our life."

"What are you saying? I don't... I have no idea." I frown.

"You'll regret ever taking up the offer," she hisses. "And you," she looks at Carnelian, flipping her tangled hair over her head. "I'll make you all pay. A grudge is as strong mentally as the person. I am strong. I will never forget nor forgive, Carnelian. Keep one eye open at all times," her voice suddenly deepens, almost a growl. "Fire and brimstone shall rain down on you like a cataclismic, ready to destroy life as we know it."

Carnelian straightens up. "I look forward to it." he says, even though his voice isn't as strong.

I turn back to him. "So I'm replacing the crazy chick, right?" I ask. Both Carnelian and Caine nod. I roll my eyes, watching Temperance skulking in the background, eyes fixated on me. "Great. Just what I've always wanted. Guess this'll be fun," I look back to them, smirking. "I accept your offer, in case it wasn't obvious. I've always liked a bit of a challenge, though I've never been hunted by a psychopath before."

Caine steps forward. "Hope you've made the right decision."

Of course I have. For benefits, this alliance will take me to the places I need to go before I can shaft them.

* * *

**Onatah Fletcher, District Eleven Female.**

* * *

Reed plops down on the couch, a stupid grin on his face.

"What?" I ask. Someone has to; he'll probably just keep smiling until someone does bring it up.

"Nothing much," he smirks. "Okay okay, well, I'm just slightly hopeful. Me and Cypress have our plan down pat."

Oh, Cypress, Tierna's district partner. She told me that he was kind and nice; from what I've seen, he's a total moron. He seems to act as if he's the biggest threat when, in reality, he's just a poverty-child like the rest of us lower tributes. Each time Reed brings up Cypress, I feel more and more detached from everyone on this floor. Kane and Mako take to it kindly, congratulating and theoretically patting his back, reminding me that I only just got an alliance. Sometimes, it's like I don't exist when Reed is a nicer, more presentable tribute to mentor.

"Really? It can't be that well thought-out if you've only worked it now," I roll my eyes. Across the room, our escort tuts in disgust. Another fan of Reed. "There's so many more things to consider, such as the arena, which, if I'm correct, you haven't actually seen yet."

"I'm guessing indoors." he says thoughtfully.

In my mind, I clap for him very slowly. It's too obvious that it's indoors. No real survival skills apart from poisonous stations. I didn't see camoflage nor their trees, bad replicas of District Eleven's orchards.

"What about you, Onatah?" Mako asks. Unlike the others, Mako actually cares somewhat about my opinions. Kane only ever laughs at my sarcasm.

"My alliance doesn't have a plan," I admit truthfully. "We'll work it out after the bloodbath."

"That's a little... reckless," Kane chips in. "Shouldn't you have a plan? Reed has a plan. I'm sure the others do too. Unless you think your sarcasm will carry you." he adds with a smirk.

"It was my decision," I counter. "We'll create our plan after the bloodbath, when the arena is revealed," I narrow my eyes. "And my sarcasm could carry me."

If only it could. I'll have to fight, I know that. It doesn't bother me either. I just hope that it'll be easier than what my realistic mind has already worked out; that I doubt I'll be the same. Frankly, I just want to live. I don't care if I'm the same. I haven't been the same for years.

Tierna and Sienna understand that. When they approached me and offered up the chance, I wanted to scoff and walk away. But the notion was plausible. I mean, they don't look the strongest of tributes, but Sienna is eccentric enough to know the damage the arena does, and Tierna's perky facade clearly holds something darker. They'll both, realistically, should be okay. And so will I. Yeah, I will be okay. I've been through worse shit.

If I do, screw it, at least I'll go out with a bang. Maybe if my body gets chopped up or whatever, they can sell parts to the highest bidders. I'm used to being brought, it'd just be ironic and sick of them. I scoff, folding my arms and looking around the room.

"Reed, I think you're wise," our escort chirps again, voice light and giddy from the amount of alcohol she has downed like a poor child with water. "Onatah, you're just not as cute anymore." she pouts.

"Oh I'm sorry. Let me smash my face in a paint bucket and look like you instead." I roll my eyes.

They should really do a Hunger Games for Capitol citizens. I'm sure it'd be hilarious to see them scream and holler, crying because they've broke a nail and can't live on without an urgent fix.

"You'll never get sponsored. No-one would want to buy you." she practically spits.

What she doesn't realise is that I was told that once before. It was wrong then, and annoyingly, it'll be wrong this time too.

* * *

**Audra Kincaid, District Five Female.**

* * *

I finger the ring inside of my pocket as I walk towards the elevator. Something inside of me warms at the touch of the forbidden silver.

But the sickening feeling soon follows. I didn't want to take it, but I had to, no, I wanted to. I wanted to take something precious, something that meant to him, but at the same time I didn't. Lyle is a nice guy. He's really nice, actually. He probably doesn't deserve this. I just can't control myself.

"Morning Miss Kincaid," Lyle greets as he comes over. "You're looking well."

I nod slowly. "I'm fine," I crack a smile. "Did you... did you find your ring?"

His face falls. "No, but I can't dwell on it. I'm just going to try my best and that today, put my mind at ease!"

The doors open. Kindly, Lyle steps back and ushers his hand for me to go first. I hear Nebula giggle from behind, but choose to ignore it. Lyle soon joins and the doors shut, trapping the tension inside. I can feel it suffocating me, stealing away the air from my lungs. As much as I try, I can't pry my hand from my pocket.

"Where did you want to go today?" he asks, the elevator light taking us further and further down to the Training Centre.

"Anywhere," I reply meekly. "Maybe the... knives? Spears?"

"Spears sounds rad." Lyle grins. The elevator dings and the doors slide open.

Lyle, once again, acts the gentleman and lets me out first. Each little gesture makes my stomach churn just a little bit more. I should put it back, or return it to Elesa and say I found it... but it'd look suspicious after two days. Besides it's really pretty and shiny. I swallow down the guilt and follow Lyle towards the spear station.

He picks up the largest and grins. "It looks so strong," he turns towards the trainer, still happy. "Excuse me sir, but can I have two of these please?"

The trainer looks me over, before raising an eyebrow. "One for the little lady? I think she'd need a smaller one." he replies.

"I meant two for me?" he looks confused, blinking a few times. "Did I accidentally imply Audra wanted one?" he looks at me. "Sorry, Audra."

"It's fine," I weakly smile. The trainer hands another exact lookalike to Lyle - who quickly runs for the shooting range - before expecting an answer from me. "Um... the lightest please?"

"Can I have one too?" a new voice joins. I freeze, barely grasping onto the spear as I turn. The girl from District Nine, Sian I think. "Hi," she smiles kindly. "Sorry if I'm being rude or something. You can totally tell me if I'm out of order or whatever."

"No no, you're fine," I step back. Sian moves forward and takes a spear as well. She looks at me, though, expecting something. "You can go for the shooting range first." I offer.

"Come with me?" she grins. "I think it'd be cooler if we did it together. Bounce off each other, you know?"

I give in and follow Sian. At least Lyle will be there, I'll feel more comfortable if he was around. Sian seems nice but I just don't feel comfortable with her. She's too kind - too much like Lyle, except I have nothing tying me to her now. In the distance, Lyle launches the heavy spear with pretty decent accuracy, but it falls short of the target.

"Damn it," he hisses, turning around. His eyes widen when he sees Sian and me. "So sorry ladies, I didn't realise you were there."

"It's cool!" Sian smiles. "Feelings and all that. Mind if I try? Actually, Audra, do you want to go first?"

How does she know my name? I hide my frown and step forward, feeling the spear's weight in my hands. Pulling back, I throw. It falters in the air and comes clattering down on the hard floor. Behind, Sian bursts into claps.

"It's okay, it's okay," she seems to chirp. "I'm sure you can do better next time. It'll just take practice." I turn, seeing her wide, bright smile.

Next to her, Lyle smiles, and the sinken feeling returns in the pit of my stomach. I wonder if he suspects anything? I doubt it. He'll never find out it was me. I can't let the ring go, not now, not when I've risked everything. I slide my hand into my pocket and grip the ring. "Thank you." I smile sadly.

* * *

**Cypress Flint, District Twelve Male.**

* * *

"We're not causing trouble," I reply to Reed as we walk towards the big swords. He laughs. "Nah I'm serious man, we're not. That's over and done with. I think we need to get remotely serious about it, seeing as we only have two more days."

"Private Sessions and Interviews," he confirms. "Not looking forward to either."

"Yeah same. I hate being judged," I roll my eyes, approaching the table. "I want a sword. A large one. Maybe even like a samurai? Or a kaiser blade."

"You can only have one, sport," the older man grunts. "What will it be?"

I turn to Reed, who nods with a knowing smile. "A kaiser blade. They're awesome."

The man soon hands the weapon over. As I walk away, Reed collects a replica for himself. He soon follows me across the entire floor, heading towards the dummies. Their pristine white bodies are clear, but behind that softness is pressure points that'll spit red feathers if I hit a main artery. I suppose now is better than ever. Two days of fooling around has meant that today is our only shot. Oh well, it's not like it's that important. The arena is more about tactical skill and impulse anyway.

"I think we have company." Reed comments as I step towards the dummy. I glance over my shoulder, the boy from District Six standing idly on the sidelines. His eyes quickly look away.

"Oh yeah," I smirk. "Think he's checking you out."

"More like you. Probably thinks you're a chick with that haircut," Reed retaliates, and I laugh, taking a swing with the sword. I totally miss the spots as white feathers drift down to the ground. "Should I ask if he wants to fight or something?"

"Don't you mean parry?" I laugh. "If you ask him to fight, you'll scare him away, dumbass."

"Whatever." Reed grumbles.

"Nah. Ask him to come over." I say. Reed's footsteps echo away as I take another slash at the dummy, a few red feathers spitting out, telling me that I was close but not direct. Means they'll bleed to death. What a way to go. I soon hear the footsteps returning, so I turn around.

"This is Rhett," Reed introduces. I look the boy up and down, his hair vaguely similar to mine but different in colour. I like his taste. "And this is Cypress."

"Hi," he smiles meekly. I hear a funny noise, my eyebrows shooting up. "Sorry. Vocal Tic and all."

"That's rad," I smirk. "I've always wanted something cool like that."

There's a tight pause, Rhett's eyes wide in awe. "Y-You think it's cool?" he asks.

"Yeah," Reed jumps in, slamming a thick hand on Rhett's back. "Cypress here is too boring for something as cool as that thing you have."

"And Reed is too backwards." I tease.

We both laugh, which instantly seems to ease Rhett. His shoulders droop and his smile increases. I wonder how long he's been watching? I don't think I've really noticed him before, at least, not until now. Maybe he's always been watching us. Kind of creepy, but who am I to judge? Rhett grins wider. "Can I join you guys?"

"Allies or fighting?" Reed cuts in. I inwardly groan; and Rhett seems to shrink a little.

"He means parry. Parry, Reed, parry. But yeah, which one?"

He bites his lip gently. "B-Both? I-If you don't mind... I don't have any allies..."

"No problem man!" Reed slaps him again, causing Rhett to stagger forward. I smile kindly and offer Rhett my hand, which he takes with a strong grip. I suppose an added person is always good. I mean, me and Reed bond over the fact that our female counterparts are allies as well. It's, like, fate or some weird shit. Now Rhett is here too. Our chances have just got a little bit more reckless, but a whole lot more positive.

"Go get a sword," I command Rhett. "And make it the biggest, most badass sword you can find. That's the only acceptable thing in this alliance," Rhett nods hastily, rushing towards the older man who instantly grimaces at being disturbed once more. I turn to Reed, whose smile wanes a little. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing," he chirps. "I think he's a cool dude, that's all."

"Cool," I reply. "Because he's in now, and if anything goes wrong, you're kinda to blame for bringing him over," I tease, watching Reed's lips curl into a smile. "Now, go and find some red feathers. This thing is seriously pissing me off."

* * *

**Sienna Mayfleet, District Three Female.**

* * *

I climb up the ladder, feeling the adrenaline burn through my body. I stand, looking ahead at the course. Platforms separated by swinging paddles and sacks, ready to knock me down.

But I see something different. I see rocky, log platforms, swaying as the roaring river below slaps the cliff's side. The paddles and sacks become a hovercraft's machine gun and spear, trying to kill me and then knock my lifeless body into the deep water. I can only complete the level if I make it to the other side, unharmed. It's my mission.

I leap and land. I repeat the pattern, clearing the first two log platforms easily. The guns soon rain down and I run, a grin filling out on my face. I miss the next spear that tries to take me down, landing in a roll.

When I jump next, though, I feel the spear hit me. I shout as the paddle forces me off the platform, flinging me to the mats below with a thud. The wind escapes my body and I lay there, motionless, feeling the anger bubble inside. When I hear footsteps, the fire ignites.

"Go away!" I practically scream, looking up.

Onatah blinks. "I would if they actually let you leave, but alas, I can't because they don't."

"Sorry," I frown, forcing myself onto my feet. I can feel my cheeks burning; I bet I looked a fool for failing my mission. I wonder if Onatah was watching? I bet she was, ready to switch in when I failed. "I thought you were a trainer ready to moan at me," I groan, rubbing my head. "I think I hit my head."

"Yeah, because that's the reason you are the way you are."

"What's that suppose to mean?" I snap my eyes up. Onatah just shrugs.

"I didn't mean anything by it," she answers plainly. "It was just a joke. Bit of sarcasm, you know."

"Yeah, well, it isn't appreciated," I can feel my blood boiling again. I take a few deep breaths, brushing myself down. "Where's Tierna? I prefer her." I comment quietly, but then Onatah's eyes are wide, staring at me.

"If you have something to say, Sienna, then say to my face please." she smiles sickly.

"I said I prefer Tierna!" I scream.

"Oh yeah?" Onatah seethes. "Well why don't you go and kiss Tierna's as-"

"Hey guys!" Tierna soon appears, cutting Onatah off. I can't help but smirk, revelling in Onatah backing down now that she's arrived. "What are you all doing?"

"Sienna here was telling me how much she prefers you over me," Onatah says, waving her hand between us. "All because I made a little joke about her fall."

"You fell?" Tierna gasps. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It was a little traumatic for me. I could've done with Onatah's sympathy rather than jokes that are just not funny!" I holler. Onatah leaps forward and Tierna slips inbetween us, a hand suddenly slapping on my chest and forcing me back. Onatah's face is in mine one moment, and then forced back the next. Yeah, run away!

"Girls, girl!" Tierna shouts above us. I stop instantly because I like Tierna, whereas Onatah stops for... I don't know. I don't even know why Onatah is here. It's Tierna's fault for inviting her. "I think we should calm down now. Think things through clearly."

"I doubt Sienna can ever think things through clearly." Onatah sneers.

I clench my jaw. She's like the big boss battle at the end of a level. But, for Tierna's sake, I won't be so hostile. "I'm sorry." I reply quietly.

Onatah doesn't respond. Coldly, she walks away, leaving a brisk tension. Tierna sighs but forces a smile on her face. "She'll calm down," she says, trying to be positive. "I don't think you getting aggressive helped."

"I told you, I react to how people are," I cross my arms. "It's not my fault that she wanted to be a bitch to me."

"Come on. Let's go try the running track or something. Clear your mind." she gently guides me towards the track, and it transforms into a muddy terrain, a grizzly bear ready to launch and attack. I smile. Clear my mind? I'd rather embrace it.

* * *

**Temperance Clarion, District One Female.**

* * *

I watch from the sidelines. Haven and Carnelian, talking like they're best friends. Caine standing around as if he's the greatest thing on this planet. Calder and Nelida nearby, high and mighty to even be near such saplings.

They all deserve hell. They deserve to be destroyed, reincarnated and then destroyed once more. A never-ending cycle of pain and misery.

How dare they reject me. I didn't even want a place in the first place. I only suggested I'd join because Carnelian was whining to Aphrodite about it. If he had shut up, he wouldn't have to worry. He brought this on himself, not me. He'll regret all those actions he ever took. Being the leader will weaken him, and when that happens, I'll swoop in like a bird, plucking away the weakest animal of the flock.

I push a few hairs from my eyes, but leave the rest covering my face. If they can't see it, they can't tell what I'm thinking. It's safer, it's more... challenging for them. They won't break me, they won't even notice me. I'll blend in, like a wallflower, and strike when needed. No-one will suspect I'll be the killer, the slaughterer, the one who killed the masses.

"Hey," a voice comes. I turn, keeping my hair in front of my face. Corin, the boy from District Nine, with that smug smile on his face. I'd love to wipe it off. "I thought you could use some company," he says smoothly. "Seeing as you're not following the usual dissection of Careers united."

"You saw that yesterday?" I speak lowly.

"Hard to miss. I think everyone was watching." he replies.

I growl; another thing Carnelian has done wrong, another hour of torture for him when I get my claws into his flesh. The points just keep tallying up against him.

"I see," I mumble. "And why would you want to keep me company? Company can only be defined by what said person has to offer."

He blinks a few times. "Yeah," he drawls. "I was just wondering whether you'd like to ally up with me? I can only assume that you rejected their offer because you don't trust larger groups. Well, it'll be only me and you, and I think that couldn't be any better."

He assumes I rejected them? Either he's a moron, or he's playing me. I carefully study his eyes, forcing my matted hair from my eyes once more. He looks promising; but I can tell that those eyes hold something wicked. I'll have to be around him more to find out though. I smile, hoping that it doesn't come off as warped. "Sure," I whisper. "But what can you do?"

"I can do a lot of things," he smiles, far too proudly. He's arrogant, that much is obvious. I bet he had a priviledged life. "You won't regret it."

"I hope not. Today is the last day before the trivial arrangements will happen. Then, darkness will fall down and swallow us all as we try and break through into the light. Will you be able to handle it?"

"I have no idea what you just said... but sure. I can handle anything." he grins smugly.

"I'm sure you could." I reply, tweaking my voice to make it high and innocent.

He thinks he might be able to fool me, but he won't. I'll be able to break him before he can break me. But first, I need a pawn to take out the others. Corin can be that. I'll let him fall, before I target Carnelian. Poor Corin; doesn't even realise that he's being used. I'll make sure his tenure with me will be useful, although playing his own game.

"Where do you want to go?" he asks, having realised I've fallen silent.

I smile, which makes his eyebrows furrow. "I think we should go and have some fun alongside the people that... I rejected," I make sure to add. I have to stop myself from laughing manically, right in his face. I bet he laughs obnoxiously. "Come. An enemy can be weaken by intimidation and tactics."

"See that, that makes sense," he grins. "Let's go... ally."

"Yes, let's." I smile. No-one even understands, do they? Only the mentally strong will prevail. And, behind every crazy person, is a stable mind.

* * *

**Ash Terrick, District Seven Male.**

* * *

A day ago, I made it my mission to find an ally. Quinn had found the lovely Angora, and as far as I could see, many people had paired up or went away in alliances. I was left with no-one.

Until I saw her, that is. The girl from District Six - Venice, I managed to learn before she walked away and avoided me - who happens to be a loner. As far as I can tell, she's the only one besides me. With everyone older and stronger, it's a little reckless to enter on your own. I guess that's why everyone wants someone, why I want someone as well. She just won't talk to me.

"Hey Venice, hey Venice," I call, rushing over to her. She looks up, before quickly looking down. "You okay?" I say sweetly.

"I'm fine." she mumbles.

"Cool. Brilliant, actually. Hey Venice, can we be allies?"

She looks up, blinking a few times. "Why would you want that?" she says slightly cold.

Damn, she caught me off-guard. I think for a few moments, her face growing impatient. "Because we're the only ones. And you look cool. I guess I'm cool, I don't really know, and yeah, we're the only ones... I've already said that, but you get my point."

"Alliances mean trust. How can I trust you?" she quietly asks. Her words are soft, but they're kinda hardened. It's like she wants me to tell her that I think she's awesome, or like, I don't know, I'm kinda lonely. I like people even if they don't like me.

The bell for lunch soon rings. Venice looks up - as the other tributes begin to usher towards the canteen - and soon follows, leaving without letting me respond. I follow her, though, even if she doesn't like it.

"Can I have lunch with you?" I ask kindly.

She shrugs her shoulders. "Suppose so."

She moves her tray along and collects her food. I do the same, smiling when the food splatters onto the plate. When she chooses a metal table, I sit opposite her, swirling my fork into the dinner, mainly out of boredom, and because I don't know whether Venice wants me to talk or not. It may look strange to others, but oh well. I don't really care.

I look up. "So can we be allies?"

Venice looks at me seriously. "You haven't given me a decent reason yet."

I rack my brain for an answer. Somewhere, I know I have a valid excuse. There has to be more of a reason than just wanting to be with her because I'm lonely. "Because..."

For inspiration, I begin to move the food in my plate around, sorting the mashed potato in curly hair, and the sausages into a curved smile. The peas, in clusters, turn out to be emerald green ideas. I also make sure that every pea is equally counted for, so that the picture isn't a little wonky because one eye has one pea too many.

"If I agree to some terms and conditions, will you stop harrassing me?" I nod, hope swelling in my chest. "I'll tell you what," Venice starts. "I'll let you join me in training after lunch. We'll see whether an alliance is going to work or not from that. A test run, so to speak."

"Awesome!" I grin. "You won't regret it. Look, I made a picture for you," I spin the plate. "It's a dinner man. He's smiling at you. He's pea-sed to meet you," I grin further, but Venice only smiles softly. "Hey Venice?"

"What?" her tone turns more annoyed than anything.

"I think we'll be great allies," I nod. "I just know it. In here." I add, pointing to my chest.

"Sure." she replies curtly.

I smile as I eat through my meal, starting with dinner man's nose made of sausage. I knew me and Venice would be a good alliance, all she had to do was trust me a little. I'm glad she took the risk. I wouldn't let her down!

"Where do you want to go after lunch?" I ask over the mindless chatter around us.

She shrugs again. "I don't mind. Maybe some weapons training? It'll let me know your skills."

"I just won't use my left hand," I say, showing her the missing digit. "Not that I can anyway. It's more my painting hand than my I'm-going-to-lynch-you hand." I smirk.

She smiles slightly again. "Gross. But yeah, I get it. Anything you want to know about me, you know, seeing as I'm a candidate for your alliance as well?"

I think for a few moments. Then, I smile. "What's your favourite colour?"

* * *

**Kiara Vaud, District Four Female.**

* * *

"I just love my alliance," I coo, looking at Odyessa. She doesn't take notice, so I scoot across the couch. "Carnelian has really organised it well. I didn't think it'd have it in, but he's really stepped up!"

"Is that so?" Octavian cuts in, an amused smile on his face. I nod hurriedly, excitement filling my chest. "Calder, what do you think?"

Calder seems to shrug, not that interested. Aw, he should be more enthusiastic. I mean, it's not like Carnelian rejected him! He turned Temperance down. Calder should smile more about it. He's luckier than he realises. "It's alright," he mumbles. "I don't know... it's alright."

I'm glad they didn't reject me. I mean, I guess I was expecting them to because I'm not like the rest of them, but they didn't... they turned away Temperance, who, as far as I can tell, she's more suited. I won't question it though, I'm super happy they didn't. If they did, I probably would've smiled and told them good luck, but inside, something inside of me would've died. I hate it when someone tells me I'm not good enough, or that I didn't make the cut. It breaks me a little bit more each time.

Mr Tripe seemed to get a kick by telling me I didn't get the part. I mean, I doubt he's sadistic or anything because he's really nice to everyone else, just not me. Maybe he's just a little clean-cut when it comes to his performances, I don't know. I never questioned it until I told him that I was volunteering, and even now, I only remember him screaming at me and every part of my soul just cracking and tearing. Sometimes, it's like he picked me out just to criticise my performance.

"Calder, you should join us more often. Oh wait, there's no more training, right?"

Odyessa snorts. "Of course not. Are you seriously telling me that you aren't prepared?"

I frown, scrunching my lips. "I'm more than prepared! I just forgot, that's all."

"I think you were seriously wrong for coming here." Odyessa comments, but I brush it away, keeping a smile on my face despite the pain it causes me.

"Don't be so harsh, 'Dessa," Octavian chips in. "I'm sure Kiara is just... excited."

Odyessa turns in her seat, actually acknowledging me. "Tell me. Have you had any training?"

"Yes," I reply shortly. "But not the kind you think. I only ever had practise runs of arenas."

"Practise runs?" she seems unsure. "What, your parents let you run around the house and they suddenly tell you you're the Victor?"

"I never won," I counter quietly, sinking in my seat. It's becoming harder and harder to smile when Odyessa puts me down. "I always got to the final ten though... and I'll do it again! I'll do better, actually!"

"I'm sure you will," she rolls her eyes. "Calder, make sure that she doesn't run into a wall or something in there and kill herself."

His eyes widen, but he still nods. He doesn't speak much. Right now, I prefer his silence over Odyessa's attitude. I sink into my seat, pouting. Octavian looks at me and smirks, before going back to his evening coffee. Odyessa just flicks through the Capitol TV channels, only ever showing re-runs. Octavian's year comes on and Odyessa makes fun of him, as his district partner dies. Calder looks less than impressed and excuses himself to bed.

"I wonder what's eating him?" Odyessa asks. Octavian seems to know, though, because he shakes his head in that way that Mr Tripe used to do when I asked to be the District Four Female and he rejetced me the spot.

About an hour goes by before Octavian leaves for bed. Our escort soon follows. Me and Odyessa sit there in silence, her soft breath filling the silence. She soon stands up, shutting the screen off and letting the darkness smother the room. "Kiara?" she soon says.

"Yes?" I chirp.

"Don't screw this up. I know you're not all clear on the fact that you'll more than likely die, but please, for the love of all that is sacred, get a high score and then do a great interview. I'm sure if you do these, you might live a day or two after the bloodbath," she answers with a low voice. My spine shivers, and depression overwhelmes me. "Please. You can't depend on everyone."

"But people... people should help each other," I reply quietly. "Nothing wrong with helping each other."

"Yeah, because every Victor was babied the entire way until they won. Don't be so naive. Goodnight Kiara."

"Goodnight." I answer, as the room falls into quiet once more. Maybe she's right; maybe I can't depend on people. But it's okay! My allies are the best, and I'm sure they'll be happy to help me!

* * *

******Hey You by Pink Floyd.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is_ ffyl hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**__****Thoughts on these twelve tributes, and which ones are your early favourites (obviously it will change, just from this glance)?**

**__****Overall favourites?**

**__****Favourite alliance?**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Totally unedited. So be warned for mistakes and spellings etc. I've tried to clean them up by myself, but I'm only human.**

**I have a poll up! Go on it and vote, please. The blog is updated with the final alliances.**

**You thought I wouldn't update, didn't you? Admit it, you didn't. So here are the second batch! I just love all of them, they're so much fun to write and tweak. I feel like we have a great overall cast here. Definitely memorable.**

**For alliances, we have: the Careers+Haven, Audra+Lyle, Jem+Sian, Reed+Cypress+Rhett, Tierna+Onatah+Sienna, Venice+Ash, Quinn+Angora, Jute+Aubrey, Corin+Temperance.**

**Yeah. See you next week!**


	6. Under Pressure

**Under Pressure.**

_Pressure pushing down on me, pushing down on you no man ask for._

* * *

**Reed Wolfe, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

"What do you have planned then?" Kane asks. I look up, his eyes trained on me.

"I don't know," I admit honestly. Mako soon returns from the kitchen area, his plate piled with wheat. I guess some habits die hard, wheat being a very traditional breakfast. I look down at my bowl longingly; I guess it helps me keep rooted. "I might just... go for it?"

Onatah sits down on the couch nearby. Mako perks up, jerking his head towards her. "And you, Onatah?"

She shrugs her shoulders, her face twisted into a scowl. Something tells me that Onatah might be in a bad mood. I mean, her attitude is pretty bad anyway, but something about this morning tells me that she's to be left alone. She doesn't reply, instead flicking on the television.

"Rude," Kane mumbles. "But yeah, sure, go for it. Throw some spears. Read some books. Reed, read." he adds with a laugh.

It dampens my mood a little but I try and cheer up. "Funny. I'm sure Cypress has already made that joke, though."

"And how is the alliance going?"

I smile. "We accepted a new person. Rhett, he's from District Six. He's... quirky enough."

Truth be told, I don't know about Rhett. I don't know whether I trust him or his quirks. I mean, Cypress quickly brought him in - and if I said a single word, he wouldn't let me live it down - but I don't know. Something about the boy feels too strange to place my finger on it.

"Ah, Constance's tribute? Or Lorcan, I always forget," Mako says thoughtfully. "Either way, it's nice. At least someone gets on well with their allies."

"Me and my allies are fine," Onatah hisses from behind. I turn, eyebrows knitted. "Perfectly fine."

"And that's why Crispin mentioned that Tierna was a little disturbed from your argument with Sienna," Kane snorts. "We know everything; don't think you're clever."

She grunts. "You know what, I'm going. See you downstairs, Reed."

She jabs the elevator button with fury. The doors slide open, she enters, and then disappears, her scowl never leaving her face. She is in a really bad mood. I guess it means she'll go far; I don't know whether I can get that angry or not. I... I don't even want to kill. The sight of the blood would practically seal my fate. Onatah could probably deal with it.

I bet District Eleven have their hopes pinned on Onatah, and not me. I mean, I'm guess me, the boy who can't read but ironically named the same. I'm probably dull and boring compared to half the characters. Even Rhett is memorable. I just... fade.

"Make sure you use a scythe," Kane inputs as I stand up. "It's, like, a tradition. Everyone loves a homegrown boy who keeps to their roots."

I force a smile as I rush over to the elevator and enter. My breath locks in my throat as I descend. For some reason, it makes me feel sick. Playing around with Cypress and then Rhett was a great break from reality, but the matter of fact is, I have to face my weaknesses to survive. I just don't know what to do anymore.

* * *

**Carnelian Ritter, District One Male.**

* * *

Nelida takes a seat opposite me quietly. Soon, Calder and Kiara are there, the latter latched onto Calder's hand like a giddy child. I smile, greeting them both kindly. Caine and Haven are the last, taking their time. With my five allies around me, my mind twists.

We'll be great, we'll be the best. But I need to establish my place. Being the leader, I have more expectations to uphold. I need the best, most strongest score. I can practically feel the pressure building on my shoulders, weighing me down. I have to do this; I can do this!

"So, guys," I grin. Caine, Calder, Kiara and Haven all look up, but Nelida's hesitation piques my interest. "I want to know what everyone is planning to do. Nelida? Why don't you start?" I smile. A strong alliance is fair, and Nelida needs to open up more.

"I don't know," she mumbles. "I'll do what I'm best at."

"Which is what?" I poke more. To be honest, I don't know what she's best at. Similar to Calder, she keeps to her own, though Calder eventually finds his way back to us.

"Throwing knives." she smiles slightly.

"That's so cool!" Kiara chirps. "I wish I could do something like that. I mean, I could like but it's really hard and my aim is really suckish. I think I'm better at the sword!"

"You mean with the sword," Haven raises an eyebrow. "You can't be better at the sword. You mean with."

"Oh," she mimes. "I'm so glad you're here, Haven. I don't know what we'd do without you!"

It's true, very true even. Though we could've done without Temperance's sudden need to exterminate us all, well, mainly me. Last night and this morning were nothing short of tense. Each time she looked at me, I swear I could see the fire growing in her eyes. Great, more pressure. Balance a team as well as avoiding my deranged district partner who's out for my blood. Yeah...

"Carnelian Ritter, District One."

I stand up at my name, flashing a comforting grin at my allies. "Just be ready guys," I encourage. "Try your hardest and do whatever is necessary. I have faith in you all."

Even though I don't have faith in myself, I think bitterly as I walk out of the room. Down the hallway and to the right, I enter the Training Centre, looks remarkably different. It seems bigger without all the other tributes, the large rope structure in the middle seemingly taking up the most room. I walk to the middle and politely bow.

"You may begin." someone says, and I move hastily over towards the swords.

My goal is simple: anything and everything. I'll never, ever be perfect at something no matter how much it'll nag and claw at my skin, but I know that I can be average at a multitude of things, which should hopefully work just as good.

I parry the sword with the trainer. When it's done - with a hopeful smile on my face - I move towards the maces and take my swings, trying harder and harder. I race around the running track as my limbs scream in agony, sweat building on my forehead. Inside, though, I hear the right words.

_You can do it, Carnelian. I have faith in you. I've always had faith in you._

It pushes me forward. I move forward and collect a large knife, moving towards the stagnant dummy. I slash and swipe, a mixture of white and red feathers that flutter down to the floor. After a while, I move towards the rope structure and begin to climb, scrambling for the top. By now, I can feel my legs turning weak, my arms becoming heavy. Every part of my body is complaining against the movements, but I have to... I have to get that higher score, I have to try everything, I have to be perfect...

I miss the rope. My hand stumbles but the rest of me continues, ignoring the fleeting moment. My heart skips a beat before my body pitches forward. The ropes smack me around and my mind spins, everything coming to a crashing stop as I hit the mats hard. A lump forms in my throat, tears ever so close to pricking at my eyes. I swallow, but the emotions build up. I can't even bear to look up at the judgemental eyes that expected more, just like I did.

"You may leave now." a cold voice speaks.

I stand, keeping my head bowed. "Thank you," I mumble, before walking away, everything inside of me feeling so hopeless. I enter the elevator and rise. On the couches, Aphrodite and Swift look at me, also expecting the best news ever. For some reason - whether for me or for them - I smile and nod weakly. "I did okay. Perfect, actually!"

"I'm glad. The leader needs to be the best, otherwise they'll have their throat slashed too early," Swift says, arrogance in each word. I think he's still upset about the whole Temperance situation. "Hope the pressure doesn't swallow you alive."

Yeah, so do I.

* * *

**Nelida Callous, District Two Female.**

* * *

As Caine stands, I feel the tension leave slowly. One by one, my shoulders begin to ease and I don't feel like shrinking into myself. He leaves with a soft smile, Kiara gleefully encouraging him the whole time. When he's gone, Kiara sighs.

"I just wish we had more time together before everything happens," she sounds sad. I would ask why, but I'm trying not to care. I don't want any attachments. They've only ever led to pain. Haven, however, places a hand on her shoulder. "I think we'd all be great friends if we weren't here!"

Calder stays quiet by her side whilst Haven nods, slightly awkward. Kiara, compared to the rest of us, relies on us. Each of us could survive on our own. Maybe that's why we seem united when we're all detached? Kiara tries to be a glue, and so people just end up staying.

Haven and Kiara talk quietly. Calder looks around, but keeps quiet. When our eyes meet, it's like I've known him for ages. His silence is too much like mine, and I guess that's why Calder is my favourite. He isn't brooding but rather sullen and I like that. It's comforting because, on another level, we must share something.

Time goes by and then my name is called. I stand, feeling exposed and as if everything is watching me.

"Good luck!" Kiara, our cheerleader, hollers as I walk away.

I can do this, I know I can. I put every ounce of my being into training. Unlike the others, I have reasons to win, reasons that will change my life for the better. This was my escape, but now I'm here, I realise how much I want to go back. But not back to her. No, I want to go back to my home and create the life I've always dreamt I could have. She can't change it; she has no say anymore. If I win, I'm free. If I die, I'm free.

I can't lose, but she can.

I don't say hello to the Gamemakers. I move forward, collecting the knives from the table. I feel them in my hand, the silver cool against my skin, a strange sense of comfort washing over me. I won't fail for myself. It was all built for this moment. I step forward, easing the first knife into my hand.

The dummy looms ahead. For a moment, I see white cotton and a plain face without an expression. But then it morphs, and her features come into play.

The fire burns inside and I aim the first knife for the forehead. With a simple flick of my wrist, the knife cuts the air and lands directly on the spot. I see her face, her soft eyes transforming into anger and hurt, glazed over from alcohol and being delirious. I throw the next knife without aim, sloppy work that lands in the shoulder blade.

_You can't even hit a single target. Useless. Pathetic. Worthless._

Another knife leaves my hand and lands in the abdomen. I hate you... you ruined my life, you ruined me.

_You're nothing. You deserve to rot in hell, you obnoxious child!_

Tears prick at my eyes and I throw again. A flurry of silver, landing in the red and white zones.

_I hate you!_

_I hate you!_

Stop! The last knife lands over the heart. I take a few deep breaths, wetness smothering on my cheeks. I flick my tongue across my lips, the urge to recoil into my body and just stay there at an all time high. I clench my fists in order to stop shaking. I step back, bowing shakily, before walking towards the elevator in silence. I barely glance at the knife-riddled dummy, a mass of red feathers at its stand.

I won't give up. I have everything to fight for.

The silence in the elevator is suffocating. Finally, I break, wrapping my arms around my stomach and crying. The bruises and scars seem to burn against my body, suddenly alert. I'll cry now; because when I enter, I need to focus and win. When the doors open, I break away and head to my room, ignoring Siryn's calls or Tarzana's questions. I need to gather everything. I can't break, not now, not when I've held it together for so long.

But a little weakness never killed anyone. Except, it will, and I'll have to hide it all.

* * *

**Quinn Tarly, District Seven Female.**

* * *

Everyone leaves one by one. Ash passes the table, but not before stopping and leaning over. "Good luck," he whispers, smiling. "I hope you do well."

"And you." I reply awkwardly, just as he fades. Angora sniggers, facing me. "What?" I ask, shrinking into myself slightly.

"Ash is nice," she grins, as if she thinks I'm hiding something. I blink a few times, studying her features. "I like him. Jute isn't as nice as Ash seems to be."

"But you said you like Jute?" I question. I'm sure she said it; or maybe I'm assuming.

"I do, but he's too spacey for my liking. I'm almost sure he's not listening to me at all when I ask something," she smiles. "At least Ash made the effort with you. And I agree, I'm sure you'll do well."

He didn't say that. He didn't say that he's sure I'll do well, he said he hopes. Hope is different. Hope means potential failure. I'm not liking this. I'll be centre of attention, watched by judgemental eyes. They'll want me to perform well. Then, they'll judge me and that's it, that's what my life will be until I eventually die. I might not get sponsors if it isn't high enough. Not only will I suffer, but Angora will too, and she's been nothing but nice to me.

"Quinn Tarly, District Seven." someone calls, and a shiver crawls up my spine.

I rise slowly. Angora flashes me a comforting smile as I disappear from the large room. When I enter the room, I can feel the eyes. My skin crawls as I move towards the middle of the room. I brush a curly hair from my eyes and bow politely. "I'm Quinn Tarly, D-District Seven."

"You may proceed." they reply.

Slowly, I walk towards the edge of the room, where the throwing knives are contained. It's my better shot, considering my aim. Angora will probably read books, but I know she's learned a lot. I should have took her advice. Internally, I can't help but berate myself as I grab the cool silver.

My heart thumps. I can feel it behind my eyes and filling my ears. I take to the stage, lining up with the dummy ahead. I struggle to calm my breathing down as I aim it up.

Breathe, Quinn, breathe.

I throw the knife. It glides through the air but falters, skittering across the floor. My eyes widen. My stomach drops. I hear a few murmurs, and one Gamemaker in particular takes down a few notes, no doubt mocking my performance. A bitter taste floods my tongue as I aim the next, focusing on the middle. The pressure falls heavily on my shoulders, weighing me down as I throw the next. Again, it falls flat. I bite down on my tongue, fingers clenched around the knives.

"Miss Tarly, you may leave now." someone tells me again, and all hope goes down the drain. Time stops, my fingers uncurl, and the knives fall. They land on the floor in a mass of clattering, every part of my body just numb and tight.

I quickly move for the elevator without thinking. I don't bother to give them another look; it's a failure either way, there's no point trying to hide it. When I reach the floor, Ash hurries on over, a smile plastered on his face. "How'd it go?" he quickly asks.

"Fine," I say lightly, brushing away the comment. I don't want to talk about it; I could never, ever just talk to someone about it. I wouldn't even open to Angora about my past and, as much as I like Ash, I wouldn't just tell him about my life, or I am the way I am. Like I would never just ask about the little girl that Ash is attached too. "Absolutely fine."

He frowns. "I don't believe you."

I shrug. "I just want to be left alone."

"Proving my point, Quinn," he replies slowly, still looking worried. I begin to walk away, but he follows. "You can open up to me about anything, you know. I wouldn't judge you - I mean, unless you wanted an opinion on something, then I'd need to do it you know."

I reach my door and open it. I turn around, offering a slight smile. "Perfectly fine, Ash. Go, I'm sure Opax wanted you or something."

He walks away, still looking back. I shut the door and sit down on my bed. I suppose I can think positively about one thing; Angora knows a lot, and her knowledge will help us. At least I hope. Only time will tell.

* * *

**Corin Roscoe, District Nine Male.**

* * *

Sian looks over from her seat, a small smile creeping on her face. Both my ally and her ally have gone, meaning that, being alone, it's obvious. Sian rises and walks across the metallic room, hands held in front of her.

"Hey Corin," she says sweetly. I smile, sliding along to make room for her. Sian takes the seat, looking at me. "You looked lonely. I thought I'd come over."

"I am, and I'm glad," I reply, though only the latter is true. I need to keep Sian on my puppet strings, even if we are in two different alliances. It's just more beneficial. I don't trust Temperance, but I know she trusts me, so everything is good and with Sian on the side waiting patiently, I have a back-up option with my human shield. "Nervous?" I ask, making conversation.

"Yeah," she mumbles. "Jem told me not to, but you can't help it," she sighs. "I just don't like the idea of what I have to do to show off."

Sian has no talents, I know that much from a conversation between her and Nicolet. Sian was worried about having to face down a knife or use one herself, so Nic suggested that she try a dirtier approach. I had other ideas, but Nic meant like poison or accessory killing, where it's not directly her fault. The person dies without blood being on her hands. Traps are usually the way for that, but Sian is nothing but a hick so I doubt she'd have the brain capacity for it.

"Corin Roscoe, District Nine."

I rise to my name. Sian sighs heavily. "What?" I ask, masking my voice in politeness.

"Good luck, Corin," she smiles weakly. What has gotten into her? I'll find out later. She can grab me some food and then indulge me in her fears and flaws, so I have more to my knowledge. "I wish you the bets."

"Cheers." I smirk, walking away. Yeah, she's fallen hook, line and sinker.

I walk down the hallway and stand in front of the door. I look to the Avox at the side, who quickly holds it open for me. Good. It's what you're being paid for, after all, I think bitterly as I enter the room. The high ceiling and lights illuminate a single spot, which I quickly take like a spotlight.

"I'm Corin Roscoe, from District Nine, born and raised and most definitely not poor." I make sure to add, just to stop their judgements that I'm like the rest of them.

"We don't need your life story, Mr Roscoe, just your skills." a cold voice replies. I scowl, moving away towards the special weapons, for my glaive. It's a peasant weapon but that's fine, it's in my blood to know how to use it. I've seen some of the townspeople use it. In fact, I think one girl I managed to coin last summer used one to harvest the crops. She was strong; I liked that.

It's probably why I like Temperance too. That, and she's a Career at heart, so it makes for an entertaining alliance that's also beneficial. I can only but win either way.

I take to the floor, weapon in hand, and approach the dummy. I angle the weapon so that the metal arrowheads points towards the chest. With careful aim, I charge forward and plunge it in, bringing about some red feathers that float to the floor. I smile, swing the weapon around behind my back, and cut across the cotton throat, red feathers spat out almost at my face.

I continue the process until I'm bored. I stop, ushering a trainer over, in which I plop the glaive into his hands and shoo him away.

Where to next? I move over towards the poisons station. I grab the vials and contents, holding them in my hands. I smile, walking over and pouring them onto the safe berries that sit at the poisonous food station. With each one contaminated, I step back. "I've sorted them out. These are all poisonous, none of them are safe." I grin wickedly.

Someone snorts. Another chuckles. I myself smirk, proving my point. They seemed impressed with that, the fact that I poisoned the entire food selection just so I didn't get any wrong. With a minute on the clock, I go back to the spotlight. "I was born in poverty and my family moved us from there," I begin to tell them. I don't know why; but I'm sure they'd be more invested in me if they knew my life. "I was always the charme-"

"Your time is up," someone rudely cuts me off. The siren blares, signalling the ending session. I frown. "You may go, Mr Roscoe."

Scowling, I walk to the elevator. Screw them then. Oh, it doesn't matter. At the metallic doors, I bow politely, stepping in. I'm probably one of their favourites now. Good, that's what I want.

I mean, who could honestly resist me? Idiots, that's who.

* * *

**Lyle Flinch, District Five Male.**

* * *

"Was it that bad?" Nebula asks as I sit down.

"What? No, no," I frown. "Why would you think it went bad?"

"You look as if someone just slapped you," she narrows her eyes. "You can tell me. I'm your mentor, after all. I'll do my best to cheer you up."

"It went... fine," I stutter. I swallow thickly, my tongue suddenly furry. I didn't think it went bad, but now Nebula has me doubting myself. Did it go bad? I did all I could. "Where's Audra?" I ask, hoping to deflect the attention. Elesa looks up from her book, crouched on the couch, before shrugging. "I think I'll go find her."

I stand up, leaving an antsy Nebula. I pace down the hallway towards Audra's room, hearing the soft sniffs filling the air. My heart skips a beat as I knock on the door.

There's a slight pause. "Who is it?" her timid voice drifts through the hardwood door.

"Audra, it's me," I say softly. "Are you okay? I wanted to see if you're okay..."

There's still a tense pause before I hear a shuffle. I back up, the door opening and revealing a timid Audra, hidden behind the frame. "I'm fine... did Elesa want me or something?"

"I wanted you," I smile. "If your session went bad, I feel you. Nebula has me doubting all my choices now."

"Precisely why I won't stay out there..." she replies quietly, but then she notices my own smirk and laughs lightly. If our mentor is that bad, it's time to band together. Well, like, Nebula isn't bad or anything, but she's a little intense. I totally understand why Audra would want to avoid that, but it feels as if there is more to it. I really, really, really need her on the ball for the day after tomorrow. I need my ally to be focused on what we need to do. "Lyle, honestly, I'm fine." she adds, eyes glossed over.

I sigh. "Just know that I'm here if you need anything," I assure her. "Literally anything. Like, legit, anything."

"I know. But as I said, I'm fine... j-just tired." she smiles weakly.

I don't buy it, but I leave the matter alone. I stand around awkwardly, waiting for Audra to invite me into her room, or at least tell me to go. She does neither.

"Lyle!" Nebula chimes from the main area.

"You should go. She probably wants to discuss something," Audra frowns. "I'll be out later when the scores are about to be shown."

She closes the door and my mood dampens. I don't have anyone apart from Audra. If she's doubting our alliance or even the idea that she might die early, then it leaves me unsure. I don't want Audra to doubt me. I like her a lot, she's like a connection to home and a good friend.

I move into the main area, the sight familiar. Nebula frowns. "No Audra?" she stands, heading over towards the cart full of fine wine. Slowly, Nebula pours herself a drink. "I really wanted to speak to her about a plan I had made. Wait. Where are all the silver spoons?"

"She wants some peace," I smile wryly, taking a seat once more. I'm nervous for the scores too, but I wanted Audra here now to talk through things. I mean, we don't even have a plan. Every time I talk to Audra, she seems to shrink into herself and avoid the idea of what we have to do. Nebula is also pressuring me, which is never good. I feel like me and Audra are behind everyone else. We have trust, but at this rate, we might not have sponsors. I sigh. "When do they come on?"

"Elesa, have you seen the spoons? They were here when the kids came up," she frowns, moving back towards me with a drink in hand. "Soon, soon," she chirps. "Oh, I wish Audra would come out. Being a recluse is never good. She'll end up going stir crazy before she realises it's too late."

I nod; I kinda know the feeling. Trapped on this floor has drove me partially insane, not to mention that I somehow lost my ring. I'm going into the arena without anything but Audra. She is my line to District Five. She should keep me sane and remind me of the goal. She's all I have now, and even then, Audra is probably thinking about leaving me. I've done all I could - even offering to ask Sian if she wanted to join us - but she might not be pleased. Oh, I only want her to be happy.

Because if she's happy, she's focused, and it benefits us better. I can't carry us both, no matter how much I really want to.

* * *

**Calder Lachlan, District Four Male.**

* * *

"I'm so excited!" Kiara squeals, plopping down on the seat. She curls her legs up under her chin, grinning wildly.

I guess she can be enthusiastic over something as horrid as this. Does she not realise that people might hate her? It's a trait that I admire from her; she seems to let nothing get her down. Well, apart from Odyessa.

"I bet you are," Octavian smirks. "Calder, what'd you think you got?"

My session was simple. I showed them the average fisherman traits that I learned out on the seas, from making nets to throwing a harpoon at small targets. Nothing particularly interesting. It'd be easier for me to fly under the radar anyway, just to make sure that all the others become targets. But the guilt swells in my chest; they aren't bad people, not like the ones that killed Mera, or even the Careers that allied alongside Octavian and Odyessa.

It has to be done. I value my new life far too much.

The television blares to life, pixels of colours filling out to reveal Hermes Abbatone. Odyessa looks visibly disgusted. "Does he realise that he looks like a child molestor with that smirk?"

Octavian sniggers, but Kiara gasps. "That's kinda mean to say about someone you don't know."

Odyessa's face twists into horror. "Yeah, and I'm thankful for that."

"Calder?" Kiara whispers. I look towards her, fearing the worst. "Can I come sit near you?"

Just as I expected. Inside, my body aches. Outside, I nod curtly and watch her scoot over, bringing a pillow to lean on against my shoulder.

He starts off by talking about the selected tributes, on how we make the perfect rounded cast, and that these Hunger Games will be intense. I frown the entire time; I remember his words for Mera's year as well. My Dad had them written out on a plaque for the fireplace, to remind me that I could not be a part of the same "weakling" lot that Hermes had dubbed that year. The mere thought sends my body into ribbons of disgust that bring bile into my mouth.

Carnelian's face is the first to come up, name highlighted in blood red. Kiara leans forward, smiling to herself. From training to here, I'm starting to think that Kiara might have a crush on our esteemed leader. Underneath, a _10_ pops up. I nod; I knew he'd gain double digits. He's a bit of an overachiever.

Temperance - the rejected Career, Haven has begun to use in place of her "fussy" name - is next, hair masking half of her face. She looks truly twisted. I'm almost sure I feel Kiara flinches as the name accompanies the picture. I don't like Temperance either, she's more than creepy. Underneath, she gains a _9_.

Caine is next. The expected leader, no doubt. Hermes even makes a joke about him probably being nothing more than a wimp. I hope not; I hope he gets a high score. As his name flashes on the screen, so does a_ 10_, just like Carnelian. Great strength plus that size equals someone memorable. Kiara claps quickly, and Odyessa simply rolls her eyes and makes a "stereotypical" comment about District Two.

Up comes Nelida. Unlike the others, Nelida has kept to herself, so I don't even know her kind of skills. But when she gets a_ 9_, I can only assume she's as talented as the others.

"Oh great, here come the nerds." Odyessa groans, just as the boy from District Three pops onto the screen, smirking at everyone.

The boy - Jeremiah Calvert - only scores a_ 6_. Nothing too impressive, but it makes me feel a little bit more comfortable. His district partner - Sienna Mayfleet - with her standout red hair pulls the exact same number of _6_. Two tributes that aren't Careers still manage to be memorable. It makes me feel like I have a chance to just get by without being targeted.

And then my face comes up. I clench my fists as Kiara cuddles into me deeper, like a cat. A middle score. Under double digits, please. I did everything I could to ensure that I was nothing more than an average fisherman. My name is closely followed by a blood number that makes my heart thump. Kiara turns, grinning. An _8_. "You got an eight! Well done, Cal!"

Not good. Not good at all. I wanted lower. Kiara's face and number quickly chases mine. Odyessa slow claps as the blood red _7_ dances on screen. "Well done. You're able to slash open a dummy at best."

"Yay!" Kiara screams, wrapping her small arms around me. I flush hard, staring straight ahead at the screen, numb. I just hope everyone else does well.

* * *

**Venice Woitel, District Six Female.**

* * *

The boy from District Five, Lyle Flinch, is next. At first, I hope he does bad just so that it boosts both mine and Ash's chances, but then the guilt reminds me that everyone deserves a fair chance. Average. Yeah, average would be good. I swallow thickly, and watch as the number appears as a _5_.

"That's not bad. I think he done good." Lorcan smiles, voice thick with alcohol. I think he's enjoying it a little too much, but Constance isn't making the night any easier.

Rhett smiles. "It's a cool score. I hope I do good."

"Did you growl during the session?" Constance deadpans, swiping away Rhett's smile. I instantly feel guilty again for him, but it's true; his vocal tic just isn't appealing. I feel so bad for him.

"No," Rhett says defensively. But then a smile appears, and I can feel the confidence radiate from him. "I managed to hold it down to do everything. You should be proud."

"I'll be proud when your score comes up," she replies, but even she seems to smile. The tension in the air seems to filter a little, making it easier to breathe. "But don't hold your breath." she quickly bites.

The District Five girl - Audra Kincaid - only manages a _4_, her meek appearance only backing up the score. I wonder if they use looks to judge us? I scowl, bitter feelings in my chest. I wouldn't be surprised if they did. Sexist pigs. Constance only snorts, proving the theory that she has no hope. I bet people thought the same about me, but I've always pulled through. I wouldn't count her out on looks alone. That's just silly. Same goes for Rhett and his unusual manners.

Rhett soon appears, and the boy seems to glow with pride. He obviously assumes he done well; I probably fucked up, but that'd be nothing new so I'm not that bothered. I cross my arms as his name is chased by a very simple _4_, just like the girl before him. As the number dances, his smile falters.

"Obviously not that great." Constance ensures to twist the knife a little more. I wince, the guilt returning. But no. This is about me doing well. I won't let anyone hold me back. It's why I was so hesitant to accept help - to accept Ash, for that matter - before I realised that I could never do this on my own. I'd tried that before - it never seems to work.

I'm next. Constance looks much more invested, and even Lorcan sobers a little. Rhett just falls back into his seat, defeated. First comes my picture and then my name. I hold my breath, rational thoughts being batted aside from the bitterness that proves more powerful. I doubt I did good. I don't care. But I do, I really do, but I don't want to.

A blood _6_ makes its appearance. My eyes widen in surprise and Constance claps. "About time we got someone decent."

I barely hear her words as my picture fades, being replaced by Ash. Unlike the others, I want him to do well. Not only is he nice and my ally, but Ash is probably the only person I can remotely trust. Our alliance has been short compared to others, but I feel like it could grow. Maybe I'm just being stupid though. I smile bitterly; it wouldn't surprise me if things don't turn out good.

But Ash pulls a _6_, just like me. The surprise holds on as his district partner, Quinn Tarly, gets a less than impressive _5_.

"Even she done better than you," Constance twists again; I can practically feel Rhett's angst, crossing the couch and suffocating me. "You must've growled. It put them off and they couldn't take you seriously."

Rhett doesn't comment. His face falls, features hardened and twisted. Each word Constance spills seems to chip away at his confidence. And whilst I feel sorry for him, I won't let that affect me.

District Eight starts with Jute Phillips, who, compared to others, has managed to hide away from sight. I saw him maybe once or twice over three days. Yet, he gains a _6_, just me and Ash. Obviously he has some skills. His district partner, Angora Knight, only manages a _5_, but she did spend a lot of times near the books. She has more knowledge than strength. Damn, I should've looked at those crusty things too.

But can you really fight a sword with survival skills? I don't know. I don't want to find out. Because when the time comes, I will kill when necessary. I've already come to terms with that a lot time ago.

* * *

**Aubrey Turner, District Ten Female.**

* * *

Everyone has done so well. Even the unexpected tributes seem to have pulled things off. Haven's ally - the girl from District Four, who always seems so childish - had the potential for a high score. It doesn't bode well for the rest of us. Then again, I'm expecting some of the outer tributes to get a high score.

What do I want? Average at best. Maybe higher. I did everything I could, but I hated being looked down upon by them. It put me off. That, and Haven seems far too sure that he done good, just because of his position in an alliance.

Corin Roscoe of District Nine is next. The boy who partnered with the rejected Career. He must be good to be in an alliance with someone trained. Honestly, I don't see why, but that's just my opinion. As his picture proves his cocky attitude, a blood _7_ plays out underneath. I roll my eyes, and Haven laughs.

"This is going to be good, I can tell," he shakes his head. "She's practically out for our blood, and if he's with her, he'll be dragged along. It's going to be interesting," he turns to face me, smiling. "At least your ally isn't crazy."

Well, I presume he isn't. He doesn't even know my name that well, so that could be a sign of premature dementia or something. "Yeah, I'm lucky." I speak quietly.

Macaulay said that if I have nothing nice to say, I shouldn't. I'm always nice; but he means the way my words always seem condescending. I'm learning to reel it in.

Sian Amser of District Nine manages a very simple_ 6_, about average as everyone else. I imagine her skills were around survival, because honestly, she doesn't look that tough. Or well-equipped. Or even that spectacularly gorgeous. She's a plain person, so something extraordinary must lie underneath. I'll keep an eye on her. If Jute kicks the bucket earlier, I'll find her for an alliance. It's where I should've gone in the first place.

"Oh oh, I'm next." Haven smirks. I can feel the pride rolling off of his body. He just expects to do well without proof that he's actually qualified.

Underneath his picture, a bright_ 8_ appears and I inwardly groan. I thought Haven was a sweet guy - turns out, his arrogance saps that away. He pumps his fist in the air, a cheer breaking through the room. Macaulay and Oxford both laugh playfully, and I force myself to at least smile, just to fit in.

"I knew I'd do well," he boasts. "Aubrey, there's no pressure." he adds playfully, but he's wrong. There's tons of pressure.

My picture is next. I bite my lip gently, curling my hands into my lap. I squeeze tight, prepared for the worst. A_ 5_ appears, and my whole mood deflates. I knew it, I knew I wouldn't do well. I spent too much time worrying about collecting an ally, that I forgot about training myself up some.

"It's okay," Macaulay reassures me. "Scores don't determine your place at all."

I guess he's right. Of course, I could still go far. The score is just a biased look at what I've learned. Many conceal their skills anyway. I fill myself with hope as Reed Wolfe of District Eleven appears, collecting himself the same as me, a _5_. His district partner, Onatah Fletcher, manages a very strong _8_ and my mouth falls open. Everyone in the room falls silent, as the number dances on the screen before fading away.

I knew that too. Someone from the outer districts would do well. It means that - besides Haven, and I guess Corin - Onatah is one of the strongest competitors to look out for. It puts a very large target on her back, though. I smile slightly; at least I can fly under the radar. Yeah, I could. I might get further, particularly with Jute as an ally and considering he's been very hidden and stealth in terms of training, it bodes well for our little alliance. At least, I think it does. In terms of sponsors, though, it doesn't.

Cypress Flint is next. I study the picture as he, too, only pulls a _5_. I don't think he did much anyway.

The last person pops up. Tierna Rowe of District Twelve. Again, I doubt she did anything spectacular. But her _7_ soon proves us all wrong, and Haven laughs awkwardly, just to destroy the silence. No-one - and I mean no-one - expected that. What did she do? What can she do?

Nobody will remember me now. And I can't work out whether that's good or bad.

* * *

**Tierna Rowe, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

Outside, the sun begins to set and darkness consumes the horizon. Tall buildings and plastic trees begin to grow dark, casting their shadows onto the pavements, swallowing every source of light in sight.

I sit down on my bed, mesmerized by the sight. I couldn't believe my score. Throughout the day, I only assumed that I'd manage average, maybe even a little lower. I did nothing impressive. I didn't show them that I'm a stand-out character. At least, I didn't think I did. I don't remember now. Either that, that seven has proved to be a shock, and a welcome one at that.

But Onatah takes the cake. An eight, the only girl that isn't a Career to do so. She should be proud of herself.

I guarantee, though, that Sienna isn't as happy. I don't know why she doesn't like Onatah, she's really nice and super cool. Sienna only got a six, and even she probably thought that she'd get higher than me, considering her hasty attitude.

There's a knock at the door. I look up through the darkness, just as it opens. Light filters through, revealing Crispin.

"Well done again," he comments, congratulating me over and over again. Even Cypress did; but I knew he'd be cool like that. "I can't believe you done so well."

"Neither can I," I smile, though I doubt he sees it. "I'm happy though!"

"I bet," he laughs, a broken chuckle that resounds against the shadows. "It fills me with hope too."

"Cypress didn't do badly though..." I trail off. Is he placing all of his hopes on me? I hope not. I couldn't cope with that pressure. Or maybe he means the pair of us. I can't see his face, so I don't even know if he's smiling or sad. He sounds sad, but that could mean anything. Crispin isn't the bubbliest of people.

"He didn't, no, but he didn't do great either," he replies, voice but a whisper. Probably because Cypress is only next door. Does he do this with Cypress as well? Whisper things about me? "I have a lot more hope in you compared to him. I always have."

Then, it hits me. "It's cause of my allies, isn't it?" I speak quietly, as to not offend Cypress' allies.

"Partly," he admits. "But more so that I know you can handle the pain in that arena better than Cypress can. He's too..." he trails off. "I don't know. There's just something different between you, and I can tell that you'll cope better."

Probably because the darkness in there won't affect me. I've lived with it my whole life - embraced it even - and nothing will change. I won't see light, but eternal darkness. I've always seen it and so, the horrors of the arena, they won't affect me as much. I totally get him. "Yeah..." I whisper.

"Try and get some sleep," he says, the light now disappearing as he closes the door. "Goodnight, Tierna."

"Night." I say, as the darkness reigns over.

I sit in the shadows for longer, my eyes still glued to the large, floor-to-ceiling window. Maybe I do have an advantage over others, but it's not one I'm proud of. I hate the things that consume me. They smother my lungs until I can't breathe, clenching around my heart until I have to stop and slow down. If anything, the arena might not shield me against it, it might enhance the shadows, making them stronger.

But I have Sienna, with flame red hair that is like a light, Onatah that is like a warrior leading me away from the abyss.

The wall thuds. "Night Tierna!" Cypress cheers through the wall. Unlike most boys, I'm not awkward around Cypress. He's more like a brother than anything else. I feel comfortable around him, something I don't normally feel.

I smile, climbing over my bed and thumping back. "Night Cypress!" I cheer, before falling down onto the pillows.

Maybe, just maybe, I can do this. I have hope. And hope is like the light at the end of a very dark, narrow tunnel.

* * *

**Jem Calvert, District Three Male.**

* * *

"You need to take it seriously." my escort, Krest, commands.

"I am taking this seriously," I deadpan. "I'll be myself. Why do I need to be any different?"

Krest frowns. "Because they want a show, my dear boy. A simple boy from District Three just won't cut it, I'm afraid," he recites, just like he has done so far. Honestly, it's like he doesn't know me at all. He should talk to Sienna or Sian, maybe even Mercury or Micro, and then he'd find out that I'm far from simple. "Stand."

I do as I'm told. "Now... sit!" I joke, but Krest doesn't find it funny. "Stop treating me like a pet and I won't make fun of it."

"You're not a pet, but you are an animal," he coldly remarks. I scowl, gritting my teeth. If there's one thing I hate, it's when people are rude for no apparent reason. I stood up for myself; at least someone has bothered. "I want you to walk and show me that you can cross a stage without problems."

I feel like a baby. Asking if I can walk properly... so when I begin, instead of walking, I prance. "Is this how you want me to do?" I continue, galloping like a horse. "Paraded for you?" I bat my eyelashes. "Do I look super pretty?"

"I would laugh if I knew you wasn't mocking me, but rather a genuine joke." he narrows his eyes.

I laugh. "Do you not see how pointless this is?" I stop, slapping my arms against my sides. "I can walk just like every other human being. I'm nothing special."

"Which is why we need to make you stand out!" he hollers. This is hopeless; I'm beginning to realise that stereotypes are terrible, and no wonder why they seem to want to swallow you into their ways. The nerds back in District Three were just the same, if not worst. They might have a border between them, but the Capitol influences just about anyone. At least Sian isn't trying to turn me into something I'm just not.

"Can you please co-operate?" he pleads.

"Can you please co-operate?" I mock.

"Don't do that!"

"Don't do that!"

"Why do you feel the need to imitate my words?" he glowers.

"Because you're being ridiculous right now, so I thought I'd just jump right on in and do the same," I flash a smile. "Look, seriously, I don't need any help. I'd rather just get on my suit and do my thing. I'm sure it's easy to talk about some things and show the stylists' work off. Walking and talking, they don't need practice." I make sure to add.

Krest steps forward. "Everyone needs some refining."

"I should be offended, but I'll let it slide," I smirk. "Can I go see the stylist now?"

"Fine," Krest pouts. "As if that idiot can create anything."

I close the door with a smile, leaving the toddler-like escort behind. Crossing the hall, I briefly pass Sienna, who rolls her eyes and laughs. I guess the stylists aren't much better. But it's nice to know, that even with everything about to happen, that I can find amusement in the ridiculous Capitol people. I open the door, showing off the blue-haired porcelain doll that is our stylist.

"Jemmy, oh I'm so happy it's you!" she squeals.

Oh great. I close the door, turn around, and smile slightly. "Oh, I'm so happy it's you, too!"

* * *

**Angora Knight, District Eight Female.**

* * *

My stylist, Leandros, looks at me with a keen eye, expecting my face and body. I feel slightly awkward, sat in a chair and facing a rather bulbous man that seems too critical. It makes me feel uneasy, the way he seems to scan my body like I'm some sort of project to work on.

"Do you have any ideas you want to share?" he asks, voice gruff and hardened. He's new; this isn't the same person who dressed me up for the chariots.

"Where's... where's Pistach?" I reply quietly. Leandros is rather creepy.

"Emergency meeting with President Snow," he echoes as a chill runs up my spine. "Now, ideas?"

"Paper," I say. His face twists into confusion, so I smile to make him feel easy. "I like books. I was thinking I could have a dress that resembles paper, or at least something white and flowing," I pause. "Or maybe red. My favourite character wears a deep, red dress."

His face is stony as he looks at me, like I said the most ridiculous thing in the whole of Panem. I probably have. I mean, I like books, and not many people choose to read unless they have to in school. His lips peels into a malevolent smile. "You have books back in the undergrowth?"

"Undergrowth...? I'm from District Eight."

"Precisely, the undergrowth," he nods. "I thought books were illegal. Apart from school books, that is."

Icy fingers grip onto my heart. Oh, damn. My heart pulsates in my throat, sweat building. "I meant that," I quickly lie. "It's a text book. I like to imagine more... yeah."

I don't like this conversation. It's leading down a path I don't trust. I'd like to think that Leandros won't prod any more than he should, but my brain knows that he's like most Capitol citizens who can't resist a piece of gossip, or even the chance to snitch on someone. I know I'm not suppose to have them. It's not like I don't know that. I just choose to keep them, because I like reading out the murders and trying to solve who done it before it's revealed.

"Your secret is safe with me," Leandros suddenly says after the thick air suffocates me. I blink a few times, watching him pretend to zip his mouth up. "It just makes you more pleasant, I suppose. I always imagined that children from the districts tend to kick muddy balls around rather than have a refined taste for literature."

I smile uneasy, pulling my hands tighter to my body. "Thanks." I say politely.

"Now, books," he pauses. "How about I design you this dress that I imagined from one of my favourite books? It was long and a silvery blue, patterned with a tiara and black headband. You'd look extravagant." he adds with a proud smile.

It would look great. I'd stand out amongst the others, with a dress that shines brighter than most. It would be great; I'd be memorable enough for sponsors and home. I wouldn't be forgotten at all. But then it makes the fact that I might stand out too much, and I could easily annoy another tribute into hunting me down and making sure I pay. I doubt anyone is that petty; but you never know, and sadly, I wouldn't want to risk it.

"I think... I think something more average," I smile wryly. "I don't want to steal everyone else's thunder."

"But the whole idea is to make you stand out?" he blinks, as if I'm speaking stupid once more.

I don't want that, though. There's too many risks. But I really want a lovely dress to wear, seeing as this is more than likely my last chance. I know the odds aren't in my favor - I'm not oblivious to the fact that I'll probably die - but I want to try. I want to try my hardest to come home. If I stand out, I'll become a target.

It's so complicated. I open my mouth to speak, but Leandros cuts me off. "Nope. I'm the stylist and you are my delightful mannequin," he steps forward. "We shall do it my way. No exceptions or questions asked."

I give in. I have to, because I wouldn't know what to say. To be selfish or to be selfless. I know Quinn doesn't want to be a target or known, and if I stand out, they'll couple her with me and then everything would be ruined for her. I can't risk that either. So, Leandros can do what he wants, and I'll have to deal with the consequences.

I've read enough to know how to cover something up. Let's hope I've also learned enough about murder to actually do it.

* * *

**Under Pressure by Queen.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is_ ffyl hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**__****Thoughts on the scores, and stand out score?**

**__****Stand out POVs?**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**This chapter, out of all Capitol characters, is my least favourite. I hate private sessions and scoring so much, you have no idea.**

**The scores are higher than normal. In my eyes, being older and everything, I imagine that everyone has something to show the Gamemakers, and if anything, I believe that the Gamemakers judge on more than just skills and strength. Looks, personality, potential might be taken into account, so I did that. So yeah. Only a few 4's, but everyone was average, above average, or truly remarkable.**

**The poll is up! Thank you to the people who voted. Jem, however, stormed ahead and left the others in his dust.**

**One more chapter ;o**


	7. Look How Far We've Come

**Look How Far We've Come.**

_Some were never meant to come here. Some were never meant to leave the ground._

* * *

**Jute Phillips, District Eight Male.**

* * *

I pinch the suit, the dazzling green set out against the rest of my outfit. I look like a lime though. A big, giant fruit, walking and talking. It twinkles a little, too. It's pretty cool actually.

"Jute, I need you to stand over there," the woman says. I barely catch her words, but then she starts shoving me to the side, up against the wall. "I want you to pose for me."

I blink a few times. "Pose?"

"Yes, pose," she repeats. "I want to know what the suit will look like when you pose. Or when you go onto the stage. So please, pose."

I frown but do as she says, looking at her with a mixed expression. I don't like this; I feel kinda exposed, like she's eyeing me up. Audrey wouldn't treat me like this. I think, the moment I'm out of here, I'll go find her. Or maybe she can come find me. I won't know what she'll look like with a dress on, so it's best she comes find me. Yeah, she should. A hand touches my side and my eyes snap back into reality, the woman's sharp nails pulling me from the room and encouraging me across the floor.

"Walk for me." she says, so I do.

"Is this okay?" I ask, hands out. I'm starting to feel ridiculous now. A flickering light over her head catches my attention, and I soon focus in, tuning out her words. I don't even know her name - I'm sure she told me. I think was Veluna or Velut or something. It could've been Virgin for all I know. She said it, like, twice? Or maybe three times, I don't remember.

"Jute!" I snap back at her scream.

"What?" my eyebrows knit and my eyes narrow. Well that was rather rude of her. "You don't need to shout, you know. I'm only here."

"Just go, Jute," she snarls, pulling open the door. "Try to find the right way. You're hopele-"

I walk towards the door, trying desperately to remember the right way. But every hallway looks the same, and the guards are emotionless and silent. I start to panic a little, turning around for Virgin's help, but the door is coldly slammed into my face. It takes my breath away and my heart thumps a little harder. I don't know where to go at all.

I hear a few footsteps and turn. Audrey comes walking, her stylist kindly attached to her arm. "Jute?" she says, puzzled.

"Audrey!" I grin. Her smile falters - her stylist looks confused - as I step forward. "I'm... my stylist kicked me out."

"Come with us." her stylist butts in politely. I nod, following them down, suddenly grateful.

We walk down the hallways, and Audrey talks to her stylist, but I zone out again. This time out of politeness though. I don't want to seem like I'm eavesdropping. I don't like Virgin for doing this to me. It was rather mean, and it's not like I provoked her in any way. It's like mine and Audrey's first meeting all over again. Miscommunications, that's all it is.

"In there," her stylist says. I follow her words, the large area booming with colour and lights. A smile peels on my face and I feel sucked in, my breath forced from my lungs. "Good luck the pair of you."

"It's pretty amazing," I admit. "Don't you think, Audrey?"

"It's Aud-" she stops. "Yeah, yeah it is, Jute," she smiles slightly. I don't know what happened there, but Audrey is weird like that. But she's a nice person, and has so many cool stories about District Ten, and how she owns a few horses. I've always wanted to see one before. "Come on, let's join the queue."

We fall into our places and I let Audrey go. She smiles, fading behind the boy from District Nine. Soon enough, I get lost in the attractions around me, looking around in awe. You wouldn't guess that we're all about to die.

I knew that, I knew it all the time actually, but the hardened feeling finally hits my chest and the sights no longer look that appealing.

* * *

**Kiara Vaud, District Four Female.**

* * *

Carnelian's interview goes well, and I clap for him when he descends down the steps. "Yay Carnelian!" I chirp.

"Thanks Kiara," he smiles. "I expected it to go worst. But don't assume he'll be nice."

I tilt my head. "Got it, boss."

"Good luck Nelida." he redirects to her, further up the queue. Nelida nods shortly, walking up the steps.

Each time Nelida looks over, I clap for her, encouraging her. But Hermes is mean, and points out the many bruises she has. I can feel Calder stiffen from behind. "She was abused," he comments quietly. My heart thumps; oh no, poor Nelida. I just want to hug her now, but I know she's not into that. My mood falls a little as she finishes up, coming down. Tears streak down her cheeks, but she roughly wipes them away as she comes towards us. "Sorry." Calder says.

"S'fine." she smiles weakly, hastily walking away.

I don't feel so good now. Caine does well - nothing standout, but that's really, really good for him! - and the District Three pair are good, though the girl with the fiery hair makes it seem as if she's treating the competition like a game to overcome. I guess she thinks the Hunger Games are actually a game. Well, they could be with that name, but I'm sure people know about the rules and stuff.

An attendant nods my way when the boy comes down, a smile on his face. My stomach twists as I climb the steps slowly, the many people all waiting for me and me alone. I feel uneasy as I step out into the light, and across the platform towards Hermes.

"Kiara, dear!" he chirps, stealing away my fear. A smile breaks out on my face and I rush into his open arms for a brief hug, before he places me into my seat. "I've been waiting for you especially."

"Really?" I blush a little, thumbing the ends of my aqua-coloured cocktail dress.

"Oh yes, I want to know what makes you tick," his voice lowers, and a sense of uneasiness washes over me. "How can someone so peppy be so... stupid about what will happen?"

My smile disappears. I don't know how to reply to that... "Pardon?" I say instead.

"Surely you must know that you're, oh I don't know, probably going to die?" he hisses with delight, like a snake. I don't like snakes; he seems a lot like Odyessa now. "You can't be the Careers' mascot forever."

"Mascot...?" I repeat quietly. Is that all I am, just a mascot for them? I thought I deserved to be in there... but are they just using me as the shield? Use me when it suits them? That's what a mascot does, right? They're expendable.

"I just can't wait to watch you crumble," he says with sickened glee. I shrink into my seat, feeling exposed and embarrassed. "I bet that, when you break, it'll be fantastic to work. Psycho or depression? The bets are on, people!" he cheers, and the crowd erupts into cheers. Tears prick at my eyes, but I bat them away.

The buzzer soon blares and I couldn't be any more grateful. "Oh Kiara?" Hermes adds as I stand.

"Yes?" I reply.

His lips peel into a snarl. "I hope you don't die too soon. I imagine a lot of development for you."

The words shock me into silence. A knot twists tighter in my chest, but I nod. "Thank you for your time." I say, rushing off the stage as quick as my feet can carry me. Calder doesn't make an attempt to comfort me, but his eyes are knowing; he agrees. I let out a tiny gasp and head towards the elevator, feeling sick and gross.

Mr Tripe was right; I'm not cut out for this... but I need to prove him wrong. Prove them all wrong. I'm no mascot, I'm a player, just like the others.

* * *

**Audra Kincaid, District Five Female.**

* * *

Nervously, I take my seat opposite Hermes Abbatone, feeling my chest swell in nerves and disgust. I'm not ready for this. Hermes has all the information he needs to crush someone... and I can only hope that nobody knows about Lyle's ring. I don't want it to be found out, not now, not ever. Nor the spoons. Or Nebula's precious silver earrings, that I pinched from her dresser.

I hate myself. I hate everything about me up to the point that I want to scream into my lungs burst. But I can't stop myself, and I don't want to stop, not really.

"Audra, Audra, Audra," Hermes smiles wickedly. Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow the acid to keep myself calm. "Where should I start with you?"

I shrug. "I-"

"I know," he cuts in, leaning forward. "Why don't you share with us your problem? Hmm?" he adds. My heart plummets in my chest and the room start to spin, lights sharper and brighter. "We'll wait for the dessert, I think... unless we haven't got a spoon."

Everything falls. I can practically feel the walls around me crumbling. A few people in the audience murmur, and when I look to the bottom of the stairs, Lyle looks confused more than anything. He's too kind and selfless to even realise. I shuffle in my seat, digging my freshly clean nails in my palm. I don't feel clean; I feel dirty.

"Your score," he redirects. I let out a sigh of relief, but even that comes out in a stutter. "Was the least impressive thing I have seen in a while. You're level with the likes of the walking alarm clock - Rhett, I'm talking to you buddy - as well as at the bottom. Do you hear the bloodbath like I do?" his smile peels into a sadistic grin.

I shake my head. "No, I-"

"I mean, I doubt you'd survive. You don't look much. You look like a frail old lady." he smirks.

My heart drops. A bead of sweat rolls down my nose, lips moving without purpose. I feel like a fish out of water. "I-"

"Let's start on the kleptomania now," he suddenly starts, and I'm almost sure someone smacks me in the head, because things turn fuzzy and the lights penetrate my brain and everything just hurts. "Oops, spoiler alert, but Audra Kincaid is a klepto. A thief. A burglar."

My palm suddenly stings. I barely catch the glimpse of blood through my peppered vision.

"And do you know what's funny?" he laughs. The audience begins to murmur louder, and someone in the back even hollers for an answer. "Audra steals precious things... like her ally's precious token."

Everything goes numb. The first thing I do - before trying to breathe again - is turn to Lyle. My heart breaks the moment I see his face, his eyes crushed and hurt swimming free. He looks like he's either going to cry or be sick. My whole body turns against me as the bile rises, spilling from my mouth.

"That's disgusting!" I hear Hermes scream. I barely recall anything, standing up and fleeing towards Lyle, like a wild animal. I hate this. I hate myself!

"Lyle, L-L-Lyle, please..." I shake him frantically, but he stands there, eyes glued on the seat. He can't even look at me. I grasp for his hand, but he coldly recoils, like I'm made of fire. "P-Please..."

"Folks, we're going to take a short break now that the little harlot has puked all over my precious stage. At least she didn't try to steal the chair, am I right?" Hermes taunts. I hear the crowd laughing. I feel my cheeks burning. I feel Lyle's body, but not really, not like I used to.

"Leave me alone..." I hear his voice quietly. The words are like icy claws that attempt to crush my heart. I step back, unable to control the emotions that flood my body. "Leave me alone..." he repeats, still unable to look me in the eye. "Please... just... just go away..."

I peel my eyes from him. Every tribute is looking at me, their eyes accusing and disgusted. I let out a shaky sigh and walk down the line, unable to look them in their eyes. Their gazes burn into the back of my head as I enter the elevator. Tears lean on my eyelashes - and when the door closes - I break down.

It's over. Everything is over. I have nothing left anymore. I finger Lyle's ring in my dress pocket, shame and guilt washing over me. I deserve this.

* * *

**Rhett Emery, District Six Male.**

* * *

After the girl from District Five puked and was revealed as a thief, I'm almost sure everyone began to pat their pockets, just to make sure she didn't steal anything on her dash for the elevator. I was probably the only one who didn't. I know what it's like to be ridiculed; I wasn't going to be a hypocrite against others.

Venice comes down the stairs, her eyes narrowed and accusing. "I didn't tell anyone anything!" I quickly defend, but she sighs.

"I know that, Rhett," she smiles half-heartedly. "Just be warned. He doesn't hold back."

Briskly, she walks away, heading to her ally just behind us. I hold a steady breath and release it, only to growl a little. No, no, not now... I hold my breath again, and nothing follows. He's already made a comment about me being a walking alarm clock - it's like he's been reading my guilty thoughts.

"Rhett Emery, up you go." an attendant says, so I begin to mount the steps, the burgundy suit sliding against my skin, a size too big. I cross the stage quickly; the faster I get this over with, the better. I'm can't hide back my fear, though, and Hermes picks up on it like a bloodhound.

"Scared, alarm clock?" he taunts. "It's okay, everyone should be a little. I'm important and you're all possibly bloodbaths, names forgotten on the wind..." he grows poetic. "But I digress. Please, sit down, but don't make too much noise.

The crowd chuckles as I do so. I can feel the hum in the back of my throat, desperate to go. But no. I need to stop it. "Thank you."

"You have a lot to live up to, considering you can't beat the drama that District Five has presented us with," he smiles sickly. "And your district partner is a peach. Won't you just fall behind and possibly fade?"

Not that it's a bad thing. "Possibly," I slowly reply. "But I'm prepared for anything that comes my way."

"So, what if, you're hiding from a large tribute or even a Mutt, and then you growl," his eyes narrow. "And you're caught. What would you do?"

"Fight," I reply simply. It's the first thing to pop into my head and it doesn't make me look weak. "I'd fight for my life."

"Noble, noble, but what if it puts your allies at risk?" he raises an eyebrow. My heart leaps to my throat; nah, Reed and Cypress are cool, they wouldn't... but I can practically imagine their hateful eyes if I was the cause of their deaths.

"They'd join me?" I suggest, but it comes out more of a question than an answer. Would they? Cypress, maybe, but Reed could go either way. Hermes is making me question my own alliance, which makes my stomach feel unsettled. I don't like this.

Hermes smirks. The crowd laughs as well, and I suddenly feel even more under the thumb. I laugh awkwardly too, as if I know the joke. "So Rhett," he starts again. "Can I ask where the vocal tic comes from?"

I shrug. "I don't know... it just, it just happened... one day, it happened when I was confronted by some guys, and it stuck," I shrink. I can feel it bubbling under my tongue, bouncing off of my throat walls, resounding down into my chest. "...yeah," I instantly realise my mistake, and my eyes widen. "I wasn't... I wasn't bullied or anything, it was just school."

The whole time, Hermes nods with an amused smile. "I see. So it's all in your head, like a little psychopath?"

Just like Constance. Another part of my shallow confidence breaks. "Um... n-no," I stutter. "I'm perfectly sane." I awkwardly laugh, hoping they'd follow me. But they don't. I quiet and sink deeper into the chair.

"Well the buzzer hasn't gone off, but I'm bored," Hermes smiles falsely. "I'd say it was a pleasure, but I'd be lying, and I don't want to start chirping like a bird because of it," he stands. "Panem, say goodbye to your very own alarm clock tribute!"

I let out a shallow breath. I don't know whether he means goodbye as in for now, or goodbye forever.

I don't even know myself.

* * *

**Onatah Fletcher, District Eleven Female.**

* * *

I look to the stands. Only Reed, Tierna and that Cypress stand, each to their own. Tierna smiles and waves, and I smile slightly as I fall down into my seat.

"Onatah," Hermes rolls his tongue on the r, making it sound more fun than it actually is. I smile though; play it nicely, Mako said. I need to look good to the Capitol, particularly with my score. I'll take his advice; he did survive, after all. "Now now, tribal girl," he soon says, as the smile drops into a scowl. "Tell how someone so average managed to gain such a high score."

"Obviously being average wasn't a problem," I counter. "But it's a secret. I'm not allowed to say."

His lips twitch into a smile that doesn't quite reach under his eyes. "A little birdy told me that you managed to slay the competition by taking down multiple dummies," he leans forward. "Is this a lie? I've been doubting it all day. I just imagined you in a fetal position, chanting or something."

I fight away the scowl and control my voice. "As I said, I'm not allowed to say."

"I bet District Eleven is much different to here," he redirects. "Do you all live in mud huts?"

Wow, racist much? "No? I live in a house, much like you do."

"I live in a mansion but I doubt you know the word," he scoffs, pompous. I'd love to swipe the smile from his face. "Does it even rain in your district?"

"It rains a lot. Sometimes, we go outside and dance when it does, and we use a different language to most district citizens."

Hermes clicks his fingers. "I knew it! It's what I always imagined your kind to do," he claps slowly. "I love other cultures. But the question is, what do you think of our drastically, much better off culture?"

The anger bubbles under my skin. The dress and feathers suddenly feel heavy, and I realise that I'm dressed up as some freaky token towards District Eleven. "Oh it's great, I just love eating all the food I can with my fingers, sleeping on the floor because the bed is too lumpy, and not to mention that I'm so excited to enter the death match you all forced me into."

He places a hand over his heart. "I'm glad that we could provide you with such nice conditions before you'll more than likely die."

My eye twitches. Is he really this idiotic? Mako's words echo in my skull, but I throw them away. I can't be nice to someone who, not only trashes myself and my intelligence, but also the place I grew up. Eleven isn't perfect - I don't like it much myself, to be honest, and another's words ignite some patriotic pride in me - but no-one should slag it off. I sigh heavily. "Thank you." I force a genuine smile on my face. I can't be mean, I can't talk back. If I do, it'll make things worse.

I don't want my chances to end before they've begun. I'd be able to go back and show the whole of District Eleven that I'm capable, that if I can do it, anyone could change their lifestyle, even if they did ask for it. "I like you Onatah," he comments, and I smile even more. He thinks it's banter - good, that eases up the pressure in my stomach. "I think I want you to go far."

"Thank you for your kind statement," I flash a wink. "I want to go far too."

The buzzer sounds, and the lights dim. I stand and pull the dress closer to my body, swallowing down the nerves. It went fine. It went rough, but I think I pulled it off. Good. Mako should be proud - maybe it'll stop him from giggling over Reed and his manly alliance. Hermes makes me bow, and then, I rush off the stage. Tierna waits for me at the steps and grins. "You did great!"

"It's a breeze." I smile half-heartedly. It's not; you either want to cry or scream or grow angry. Tierna is strong, though. At least I hope she is.

"I hope I do well," she admits quietly. "Sienna did great too," her eyes widen. "Do you think he knows things about me?"

He does. The Capitol knows pretty much everything. But, for Tierna's sake, I smile slightly. "Nah. I doubt they're that smart."

* * *

**Cypress Flint, District Twelve Male.**

* * *

"Tierna..." Crispin pleads through the door. I frown, still on the couch.

I hear the door open and snap my head around. Crispin steps back, revealing a red-rimmed Tierna. She smiles weakly. "I'm fine," she says, walking towards me. "I just... it was overwhelming."

Hermes really laid into her, though nothing specific. He taunted her on how she didn't deserve the score she gained, and that better tributes - the ones more entertaining - were going to lose because she was selfish and didn't deserve something completely out of her control. It was completely cruel, and I made sure that was known.

Tierna sits down next to me, pulling her knees up to her chest. Crispin sits down opposite us, his face weathered from stress. "You guys didn't make it easy on me tonight."

"I said what I thought was right," I defend. "He completely trashed Tierna for no reason. She did nothing. He always preys on the vulnerable, thinking he's better than everyone," I snarl. Crispin coughs, and I turn to Tierna. "You didn't... you didn't mind, did you?"

She hastily shakes her head. "Of course not. Thank you for defending me." she speaks quietly, but I can feel the distance between us. She's pulling back now that reality has caught up with us, and this perfect little bubble is about to burst.

"What you did was admirable," Crispin says. I pull my eyes from Tierna, feeling the betrayal. No, not betrayal, but hurt. This is it; friendship terminated. I can't stop the bitterness from flooding over my tongue. "But also reckless. You've probably made things worse for yourself and Tierna. The Capitol doesn't like slander." he adds with a worrying tone.

I swallow thickly. "I thought I was doing good..."

"Exactly, you thought. And it was nice of you, but the consequences could be severe. I'm going to have to do a lot of twisting to persuade them not to take personal action."

And with the way Tierna is acting - which is perfectly understandable - I wish I didn't bother. I thought she'd smile and thank me, but instead, she recoils from me because she knows that to survive, I will die.

Tierna coughs. "I think... I'm thankful, I am, but you didn't need to do that."

The hurt smothers my chest, trapping my lungs. I nod curtly. "Too late now," I say bluntly, causing Tierna to wince. "...s-sorry."

"Don't be angry, either of you," Crispin sighs. "Can't change the past. You can only look to the future. Tierna, Cypress was defending you. Cypress, Tierna didn't want you to do so. But at the end of the day, he did, and now we'll have to deal with it as a team."

At that word, Tierna rises. "But we can't be a team... I have an alliance, you have an alliance," her pitch grows more and more frantic, causing the lump in my throat to swell. "One of us will die. There's no stopping that whether he defends me or not!"

Crispin stands. "Tierna, listen to me-"

"I don't want to!" she practically screams. My eyes widen, my stomach dropping. Crispin's mouth falls open, shock replacing the calm demeanour he had. "I-I... I think I'm going to go to bed," she stammers. "I...I..." she trails off before leaving the room briskly.

When the slam of her door rings out, Crispin falls back onto the couch. "I think my conversation with her the other night has made things worse."

"Conversation?" I ask, eyebrows rising. "I don't remember you two having a conversation?"

He frowns. "It was when you went to bed. It was private," he stands. "I think I might've broke Tierna's confidence."

"Hermes done a good job of breaking it even further." I add, seething with each voice. But I remember Tierna's sudden detachment, causing the anger to fade slightly. It's still not right, but her words echo in my mind, reminding me that we're not a team. I don't have ties to her after tonight. It's either me or her. I rise too, flicking the stray blonde hair from my face. "I'm going to bed. This night has drained me."

And that was just the interviews. Who knows what'll happen tomorrow, when the fighting, bloodshed and corpse count will begin. Tierna might crack further. I might even start to break.

No-one can survive the arena unscathed. I can only hope I can handle it all.

* * *

**Temperance Clarion, District One Female.**

* * *

"Stop staring at me," Carnelian hisses from over the table. I tilt my head, playing the innocent act. "It's creepy, Temperance."

Carnelian has grown a lot in the last few days. From someone who seemed so unsure of me, to now standing up against me without his precious puppy Caine to protect him if necessary. Swift and Aphrodite don't seem to hear Carnelian's whining, though, so I simply continue my stare.

"If you look long enough at someone, you can see into their soul," I echo, tuning my voice to a growl. "I bet yours is black. As black as the night sky or the depths of Hell."

Carnelian stiffens, clenching his fingers around his fork. "Stop it." he argues, but his voice is nothing but a plea now.

He made a mistake. I hope he realises the consequences behind his choices. As does Haven, though I'm not too bothered about him. He's simply a pawn to Carnelian's greater plan. And pawns always are the first to fall in a match.

Does he even know why I'm against him? I'm long since stopped tormenting him to his face, learning that simply staring can make him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. Corin doesn't act like that. Corin always believes that he has me wrapped around his little finger, which he is highly mistaken. Maybe that's why he's more immune to what others feel about me. It doesn't matter; he'll soon learn, particularly if he tries to cross me.

"Temperance?" Swift calls. I turn, staring at the older man. "Stop looking at Carnelian like that. He has a lot of pressure already." he smirks, twisting the knife deeper.

"And you, shut up," Aphrodite jumps in. "Let them do what they want. Carnelian is doing a fine enough job as it is."

Though secretly, he's beating himself up about his score. It wasn't good enough, according to him. People would die for that score. People would kill for that score. It's but a simple number in the ever-changing world of people, that deem you inferior or impressive based on what you show. But at the end of the day, a score is a score, and it means absolutely nothing.

I only got a nine. But I know that I could kill without flinching, that I could drag a blade down someone's arm for hours, bathing in their screams, and never feel guilty whatsoever. That deserves a twelve if I was allowed to show it. And Carnelian's ten could still mean that his screams might be my water.

"Carnelian, plans?" Aphrodite asks, switching conversations.

"Secret," he smiles proudly. "But me and Caine brainstormed for a long time. I think we have a good idea on what to do now."

"You and Caine," Swift scoffs. "A leader shouldn't rely on someone else, you know. Makes you seem more needy or weak in the eyes of your allies."

Carnelian pales. "My team is a team. We work together, not above or below each other."

"Until they plan to kill you in your sleep." Swift points out. Very good point too. It wouldn't have been my choice - I'd rather see their pain, than a simple death - but still a decent point.

I pull my hair over my face, giggling softly when Carnelian looks disturbed by the sight. "I'd hate for that to happen, Carnelian. I imagine our meeting in the arena already."

I watch the lump in his throat bob up and down. I giggle again, but Carnelian's lips peel into a scowl. "I can't wait for that either." he adds coolly.

It'll be something to watch. But I don't care for that, I don't care about what people will think. The only thing I care about is whether Carnelian - so perfect, trying, hands-on Carnelian - will bleed red or not.

* * *

**Caine Pravda, District Two Male.**

* * *

This is it. This is the moment I've been waiting for my entire life. My only purpose in this life leads up to this moment, the moment where I enter the arena and fulfil what life has already set for me.

Both Siryn and Tarzana are up earlier, more so Tarzana demanding that we get a move on. Nelida comes sulking out of her room, eyes red-rimmed and cold. Last night really took its toll on her, and when she came back, she did nothing but stay in her room. "Oh cheer up," Siryn complains as Nelida takes a seat at the table. "You should be thankful that he didn't twist the knife any further."

Nelida simply eats her breakfast in silence, without even looking up.

"And you, Caine," she says. I look up, Tarzana's eyes training on Siryn in anticipation. "You did... fine. But well done boo, I knew you'd be fabulous."

I smile awkwardly, wanting to find some other way to get away. The arena is for me, not the coats and clothes and lights. I don't care for that. I don't care for the arena much either, but it's my purpose.

Yeah, that's what I'm made for. What I've been trained and taught. It's the only thing I know, how to slice a neck perfectly and how to disarm a crazed attacker. I know nothing else. I have no other skills outside this. A monster, born and bred. The compliments I received from Hermes last night only seemed to make me sick to my stomach. Congratulating someone on their score, for how well they can kill?

"When do we go up?" I quickly say. The quicker this is over, the better... but who knows what I'll do whether I die or live. If I live, I don't know what'll happen. I have nothing else planned, well, nothing planned for me at least. My stomach knots and the idea of food makes it worse. I push the bowl of cereal away, but it only seems to make Siryn snigger.

"So impatient. I bet you can't wait to get your hands dirty," she smiles sickly. "It's the best fun. Honestly. Nothing is quite like killing. Right, Tarzana?"

Tarzana grunts. "You'll find out that there are better things eventually."

I already know there are. I've always imagined if I was one of the few children to not attend the Training Centre, or maybe even train without being chosen to volunteer. I would become a miner, or at least a head within the mountains and quarries. I'd love to feel the sun on my back and the sweat on my forehead from the hard labor, rather than blood sticking to my skin and forever staying there, stained.

"Come on, let's go." Nelida says, standing.

I follow, and Siryn looks flabbergasted. "Where are you going?"

"To the roof," Nelida says quietly. "It's time."

"You're early." Tarzana narrows her eyes.

"Shows we're keen," I smile half-heartedly, hoping that they buy it. "...gives us a better look." I quickly add at their disapproving faces.

Neither respond, but Tarzana jerks her head in the direction. Nelida rushes for the elevator and I follow, both sliding into the doors. I take a long look at the District Two level, saying goodbye to the place that was a better home to me than District Two in reality. Nelida seems to do the same, before the doors seal away this newfound life for good.

The ride upwards is tense. There are so many things I should say to Nelida, how that we should try our hardest, or even ask her how she is, considering last night. I've known Nelida for a year, and I've never seen her break quite like that. The doors open and sunlight blasts the white rooftop.

"Good luck," Nelida mumbles. I turn, a weak smile on her face. "I'll see you up on the plates. Find me."

Our commands from Carnelian. For a moment, I thought she might open up. I smile slightly. "Yeah. And you, Nelida."

Truth is, we both need the luck for the bloodbath. We're Careers, not invincible. And one - or maybe both - of us will die eventually. I just hope that when the time comes, I don't have to be the one that cuts Nelida down. I don't want to see her face in my nightmares, reminding me of what I am: a murderer.

* * *

**Sian Amser, District Nine Female.**

* * *

"I'll see you soon!" I cheer to Corin, as he begins to walk towards the other hovercraft. He turns and flashes a smile, before disappearing up the ramp. I like Corin; I'm glad to have a nice district partner like him.

I walk towards my own hovercraft. The light bounces off of the metal shielding. It looks so cool, I've never seen something quite like it. I'm so caught up by the sight that I don't see where I'm going, until I'm crashing into another body. The boy pitches forward, caught off-guard, and hitting the ground with a thud. Everyone begins to turn, my cheeks turning pink at the many eyes. Great!

"I'm so sorry! I didn't, I wasn't looking..." I trail off, watching as he gets up. The boy from District Eight, who blinks a few times. "I'm really sorry," I brush a piece of white gravel from his shirt. "I..."

"It's fine," he smiles. "I know what you mean. The hovercraft is so shiny."

His eyes drift up, but they never look back at me. It's like he's fixated on the machine, completely forgetting that I'm right here. Oh, no, I think I've upset him. I frown, stepping behind him. I hope he doesn't hate me... but he seemed nice, like when I tripped Jem up and he took it in a great way. But not everyone is like Jem. Jem is one of a kind, and I like that about him the most.

The tributes walk up the ramp. One by one, until the boy in front is forced to move, coming back to reality in time to get up the ramp safely. It's only then that I see Jem.

"Sian," he grins, jerking his eyes at the empty seat next to him. I rush over, plopping down with a smile. "Fancy meeting you here."

"I know," I laugh. "I take it they wanted us together."

The last few tributes climb aboard. The attendant presses a button, and the large ramp begins to close up, taking away the light. "Making me feel nervous," Jem admits all of a sudden. "It's really going to happen."

"Yeah," I say, my mood falling. It didn't feel real when we were in the Capitol. It felt like school, meeting the new pupils and making friends, rivals and everything. "But I mean, we can try and think positive about it, right?"

Jem smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. It's okay, I'll carry the positivity for him if he falls under the spell. It's one of the many things that I did back home, for my friends and family.

The engines roar, and the hovercraft becomes lighter as it rises in the sky. Jem grips onto his seat, the smile now reaching his eyes. "I wonder what the arena will look like?"

"Hopefully a running track, but we've proven our work on that," he jokes, which causes me to laugh. It resounds around the room, catching a few eyes. "But I don't know. As I said, I feel too nervous to guess. Just meet up with me at the Cornucopia, okay? And then we'll run and work it out on the way."

"That's a plan." I reply sweetly.

We fall into mindless chatter as the hovercraft continues the journey. Halfway through, the attendant approaches us, a syringe in her hand. "Arm please." she says coldly.

I jerk my arm out, focusing on her eyes. I grit my teeth as the syringe enters my flesh, a blue flashing light now travelling up my arm.

"That looks weird," Jem grimaces. "Can I have a red one, if possible?"

"Arm please." she replies instead. Jem grimaces as he gives her his arm, the needle disappearing in his skin. He swears under his breath as the little tracker zooms up his arm, disappearing too.

"Will you read my mind too?" he looks at her, and for a moment, you'd think it was a joke. Except Jem looks with narrowed eyes. "I'd rather you didn't. I have some personal things up there, like the secret ingredient in Amaran's cake." he adds, and I laugh again. The attendant is less than pleased, and she walks away briskly. "Well she's no fun."

"I don't think you're suppose to have fun." I smirk.

"Yeah," he sighs. "Well, better make the most of it whilst we can. As you said, positivity. I'll worry about the tougher things later," he places his hand in mine, squeezing lightly. "I'm ready for this, if you are?"

I nod hastily. With Jem, I feel like we have the best chance, and I'd do anything I could to help out! "Yeah," I say quietly. "I'm ready."

Although I don't feel like it.

* * *

**Ash Terrick, District Seven Male.**

* * *

"Hey Venice," I whisper. We're lucky. Normally, they never put allies in the same hovercraft! "Hey, hey Venice."

"What?" she replies, sounding irritated.

"Are you okay? You sound irritated," I echo my thoughts, gaining a small groan. "Yeah, well, I just wanted to say hi."

"Hi, Ash."

I smile, contented. I know Venice must think that I only live to bug her, but it's nice to be reminded that I have an ally. I didn't think it'd be possible, considering how quickly people paired up, and my lack of social skills. Well, I say lack of them, but people just ignored me a lot. I don't even know why, I'm only guessing. But it doesn't matter. Now, I have Venice. She doesn't realise how lucky I feel.

The engines continue to hum. It's been ages, come to think of it. Where are we going? No-one else seems to have noticed that we've been travelling for well over an hour now. With the hovercraft's speed, you'd think that we'd be there within seconds, but apparently not. It leaves a twisted nerve in my stomach.

"Ash," Venice's voice comes quiet, barely above a whisper. I turn, the other tributes unable to hear because of the engines. I hum, smile, and take her hand gently. She's a little hesitant, but holds back. "I'm scared," she admits. "And I... I don't know what'll happen."

We've never discussed this. It's been a thing that I think Venice was hoping to avoid. I swallow thickly, suddenly unable to breathe. What can I say? I know what will happen. One of us is bound to die, maybe even the pair of us. I know that... and it's sad, because the more I think about how I like Venice, the more it makes my insides hurt. Like they're on fire, or bleeding.

"So am I," I admit also, hoping to use it as comfort. "But... I don't know what to say. I've never had to comfort someone before."

She laughs bitterly, lips twisting into a grimace. "It's fine. I'm far too used to being comforted, and I know that it's never helped."

Me, on the other hand, hasn't had anyone stay long enough that we hit a rough patch like this. It's foreign for me. Still, I squeeze her hand more, knowing that she's right; I can't steal away her nerves with pointless words that may or may not come true. Venice is a smart girl. She's realised that one of us will die, and it could be in the next two hours or the next two days.

From there, we're on our own. An unnerving feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. I don't want to be alone, not again, not ever again.

The hovercraft begins to chug, shaking the seats. A few gasps and shocked squeals echo as the machine shakes, but then everyone quiets, just as the hovercraft hits the ground with a thud. "Sorry for that everyone. We hit some turbulence." a voice over the intercom says.

The seatbelts unlock. One by one, tributes are helped out of their seats, down the open ramp that doesn't allow any light in. Oh yeah, we're inside. Venice stands, our hands peeling at the last moment. I never even knew Venice could be so... so soft.

I follow after her. But soon, she's disappearing down a hallway, head bobbing along with our enemies, our fellow tributes, our fellow sentenced teenagers.

"Follow me," a hoarse voice commands. I follow obediently, the structure of the insides remotely cold.

"You know, this could do with a lick of paint," I say as he opens a door. "It should be welcoming, not warning."

"I'll make sure to pass the message on, Mr Terrick. Inside please." he replies instead.

I step in, and the door closes. The insides are just as grey, until a bob of colour bounds from behind a curtain. "Ash!" she squeals, purple bangs coating one of her eyes.

At least the last person I might possibly see will have a little colour in a cold place.

* * *

**Haven Hemlock, District Ten Male.**

* * *

Igor moves forward with a stoned expression. He's still not happy about things, but the rock man would never actually say anything. That would require moving his lips, which I think he'd rather not.

"Igor, please," I plead. I hate the fact that he's annoyed at me for this; I'd rather not be hated by someone whose out to help me. "I had no choice." I admit quietly.

He simply grunts in response. Ever since I told him I was in the Career alliance, he's acted aloof. Oxford isn't happy either, but he's kept quiet about the situation. It's Macaulay that looks on with disgusted eyes, for being the wolf among the sheep, apparently. It's all about survival. I mean, Macaulay killed his own cousin to succeed. He shouldn't be so quick to judge on what a person has to do to survive.

Igor passes the metal bench, bringing about black coat bags, containing the arena costume.

"Here," he says simply, shoving the largest in my hands. I pull back the plastic, revealing a simple white, dress shirt. I frown, pulling out the matching black pants, that look far too classy for an arena. It's something you'd wear for a special occasion; maybe it's irony for the Capitol, their eyes glued to their plasma screens. "It's normal clothing. Nothing special."

A simple shirt and pants? Something uncomfortable blocks my chest, making it hard to breathe. "Shoes?"

"Boots," he replies instead. "Combat boots. Black. Thick tred for running, laces, but nothing special either," he hands me the hefty shoes, their weight quite impressive. They remind me of the things you'd wrangle cattle with in the pastures. "And this."

The last piece is in a small brown, paper bag. I pull the white tissue paper out - tossing it aside in a crumpled mess - to reveal a thin, black tie. A lump forms in my throat; it's like the tie I wore for my Grandpa's funeral, when they buried him in the fields he worked in all his life. Kanis Hemlock, the guy who changed my life. I shake away the emotions, the plain leather bracelet in my pocket suddenly becoming heavier.

I don't know what to say. Or what to think. I sit there, just blinking at the objects in front of me, like I'm dressed up for a funeral - my funeral.

"That's it," he says again. "Nothing else. Oh, a belt, in case the pants are too large."

I swallow thickly. "Igor..."

"It's none of my business," he brushes my plea away. "You make your own choices, Haven. I simply dress you."

There's a tense pause, me thumbing the tie. "...if I win, we'll see more of each other."

"And it'll be business only." he says instead. He's really took it hard about my choices. Igor reminds me of my Grandpa too much... he'd be disappointed too. But, I have to, for the sake of survival. Then again, the idea of not winning sounds appealing too. Part of me wants to care, and the other parts wants me to throw myself off of the plate before the countdown hits zero.

I hastily begin to get changed, placing the leather bracelet on the bench. I push my legs through the pants, buttoning the shirt up. I swing the tie around my neck and fasten it up, leaving some room for breathing. I doubt I'll get in trouble for not having it done perfectly.

I slide the socks and boots on, before wrapping the bracelet around my wrist. This is it. This is going to be the difference between winning and losing. Will I try hard? Will I just give in?

I'll fight. For Grandpa, and all the others that died. For myself. For the fact that anyone can take the claim for themselves. My eyes snap to the clock: only a few more minutes.

"We should make peace before I go," I say to the back of Igor. "I don't want this on my mind when I go up."

"Kid," he turns. "You shouldn't care so much what I think. It's your life, your decision. But your guilt over something that's nothing to do with me... it speaks volumes. For your sake, I hope you made the right decision."

"I did," I grow defensive. "I'm just as good as them, better than some who trained. I don't have any guilt. I just don't want you whining when I return," I snap, pushing the frightened child inside deep down. It's not the time or place for him, not now, not until I come home. Then I'll depend on him too much. "I'll win." I snarl.

* * *

**Sienna Mayfleet, District Three Female.**

* * *

I'm not scared. Well, I am, but it's something I can control. I can do this. I can do this.

My eyes glance up at the clock, the black finger tilting closer and closer to the top. It fills me with excitement and nerves and fear. I don't even know which emotion wants to control me, and I'm left a jittery mess, walking back and forth in the hopes that I can control myself.

Onatah said we'll sort things out after the bloodbath. I hate it, but a part of me wants her to fall in there. She's going to destroy us from the inside out, I just know it. She'll be like a traitor within our midst, trying to stab Tierna in the back, or me in the front.

I won't allow it. I'll make sure to keep an eye on her, understand what she wants and what she plans. Onatah won't escape my thoughts.

"Do you want to eat?" Sephora asks again.

"No thank you," I say plainly. "I feel too sick for food."

"Nerves can be a good thing, sweetie," she replies. "It could mean that you might try even harder than you thought. You could escape better and become stronger."

I tune Sephora out. Her advice will just cloud my knowledge. I need to focus, and it's too late. I'm going in - I'm going to take what I can, and beat whoever comes too close for my liking. For Tierna and me, I will collect what I can. Onatah can have some if she makes it.

The finger edges closer. I pace back and forth like a caged animal, snapping my eyes between the clock and the tube. What will the arena be? I don't know, but it's exciting. It could be anything, and I'll have enough time to figure out the obstacles and how to get over them. Tierna and Onatah are lucky with my knowledge and background.

"Attention tributes. Please take to the tubes for launch." a voice over the intercom commands. I look up at the small box - and then the clock - before finally landing on the tube. I step forward and onto the plate.

"Sienna, good luck." Sephora says, just as the glass smothers me. I hold my breath and force a smile, pushing stray hair from my eyes.

The plate begins to descend for some reason, and my stomach drops, the nerves overpowering the sense of excitement that once flood my body. I don't feel so excited now. I swallow thickly, the lump just reappearing in my throat each time. I steadily fall into the light, barely catching a glimpse of my wooden surroundings before I hit the plate.

Indoors. We're indoors. I look around, everyone looking afraid. What can't they see?

I look forward; there's no Cornucopia, just a railing. A railing. I crane my neck, and just over the wooden beam, I can see the shell of gold at the bottom. So we're up, and it's down. We must be on a walkway of sorts, or this "arena" has two floors. Maybe it's a balcony? My lips peel into a half-smile.

As I stare at the wooden beams, the magnificent arches and the round circle we've been placed in, it makes sense. We're on a balcony on a second floor, overlooking the Cornucopia on the ground floor. You can't even see what objects are spat out in the surrounding area.

But my mind quickly races. You could jump over the balcony and land without injuring yourself. There aren't any stairs... so we must jump. It'll be painful for some. Maybe it's not a large drop? But without stretching, you can't see the Cornucopia. No, we jump, cause there aren't stairs. It's the only way down. A glass chandelier hangs overhead, reflecting the shimmers. You could swing on it to get down. I survey behind me, only to see a few scattered doors placed between each tribute. Large and impressive, but it's the hint of silver that catches my eye.

A large, metal chain bolts each one shut though.

There could be doors down there, to force everyone to at least go downwards, even if it's to run. It'd make sense to group us together. It'd be like those games where the enemies attack in groups, and you have to take each one out. A purge or something.

The excitement comes back. I think we're in some kind of school, now that I can see the glimpse of boards and pictures. These... uniforms... could indeed be the school uniforms that the privilege get to wear. I wore one to school on certain days, though it wasn't as traditional as this.

The ticking of the clock reaches my ears, and I bend down, ready to leap over the banister. But before anything can happen, a loud bang sounds throughout the arena, causing the glass chandelier to fall and shatter.

* * *

******Look How Far We've Come by Imagine Dragons.**

* * *

******T********he blog for this story is_ ffyl hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**__****Who do you want and think will die in the bloodbath?**

**__****Thoughts on the arena, and its potential?**

**__****Favourite POV?**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**The bloodbath is next. **

**I just want to say that, to all the submitters, that I appreciated your character. I found all of these so much fun to write, and personally, I found each one with ease. I understood them and there was something from everyone that I related to. It's going to be crushing to kill some, but it must be done. Hopefully no hard feelings.**

**Secondly, a poll is on my profile. I've chosen six tributes for the BB (my lucky number, woo!) so go there, and choose the six tributes who want to _survive_ the bloodbath.**

**I looooove Hermes, but you probably don't. I don't want him to grow old, I love his belittling attitude ;_; on that note, I don't condone his racist attitude towards Onatah. Totally him, not me. **

**Yes. The arena is a school (with a twist...), and their uniforms are school uniforms. Har har. **


	8. Dust To Dust

**Dust To Dust.**

_And dance 'round and 'round the flames. In front of us, dust to dust. _

* * *

**Caine Pravda, District Two Male.**

* * *

The chandelier falls in slow motion. Everyone begins to turn, looking around. Did someone jump? My heart thumps against my chest. No, no, there are twenty-four of us still. I don't know whether I'm happy about that or not. The screech of static blares through the air, causing everyone to wince. I look around, finding the intercom in the corner.

_"Attention. Attention. Bombs are being deployed. All soldiers to the front of the line. Man the stations, hold up the barriers. All students are to stay in the safety of the school."_

It was a bomb? A thick feeling smothers my throat. Inside or out, is what I want to know.

The static fades. Everyone is murmuring now. I wrap my fingers around my tie, ripping it from around my neck. I pump myself up, flexing my fingers and increasing the adrenaline that floods through my veins. So it's a school, kinda like the Training Centre. I bet it's a really big building too, with tons of rooms. Everyone is going to run, I just know it. Frankly, it's the best option. It'd be easier if people just avoided us.

The countdown starts. I look up, the metal slabs on the ceiling now showing green digits.

_60...50...40..._

I calm my breathing down. To my left, I can see Carnelian and Nelida, the former in a bowtie whilst Nelida wears a short skirt and black tights. Girls have different uniforms, apparently. To my right, Calder and Haven. Straight opposite me is Kiara, left on her own. Her eyes meet mine and she gives me an unsure smile. She's probably as terrified as the others feel. Me? I don't know. I just feel... numb. I expected something more. I expected excitement, nerves, even joy if it was possible, but instead, I get nothing. I feel nothing. I'm as emotionless and robotic as they told me.

_30...20..._

I position myself, ready to run and throw myself over the railing. I'll be one of the firsts. I don't whether that's a good thing or not.

_10..._

I stuff the thin tie into my pocket, hastily pushing my sleeves up to my elbows. I need freedom. I've always needed freedom. Maybe if I let myself become a monster, I can truly understand what it's like to be free from everything. I bet it's wonderful. After this, I'll have no responsibilities, no expectations. I wouldn't have to kill again. I could enjoy a life away from fighting, violence and murder.

_0..._

And chaos explodes in a shower of stomping footsteps and shouts.

I leap from the platform, barely crossing the hardwood floor before I'm throwing myself over the railing. I land clumsily on the floor, shards of glass piercing into my palms, but the pain is nothing compared to the chaos around us. I jump to my feet and rush across the floor, heading for the shiny sabre that lies propped up against the golden skin. I barely catch a glimpse of a few other tributes - crashing onto the floor on their sides, backs, but no-one landing on their feet - as I grasp the weapon.

Spinning around, I swipe the sword at the boy from District Eleven, Reed. He jumps back, eyes wild and fearful. For a moment, I just stare, the sight of a teenager the same age as me, except he didn't choose for this. I swallow down any guilt and jab forward again, slicing the silver across his white shirt. It rips open and that occupies him enough. His eyes fall down to the fine line of blood that's now spilling down. I won't have to see his eyes. That's good.

I leap forward and plummet the sword into his chest. I place my hand on the back of his head, forcing him down onto the ground. I pull the sword out and he crumples, curling up into a fetal position as he bleeds out.

"Caine!" Carnelian's voice hits me. I spin, the slightly shorter boy now jogging over. "We need to help Kiara."

"I can't get down!" I hear her scream. But the other tributes are down now, everyone apart from Kiara. It's probably better she just stays up.

"Leave her," I quickly say. "She's safer up there. We'll get her down after, now duck!" I shout. Carnelian lowers, as my sword clashes with that of the District Twelve boy. I force Carnelian out of the way, parrying with my new opponent. "Just... do your thing!" I shout, and Carnelian rushes off.

I put more effort into the sword and force him to drop the weapon, clattering on the glass below. His clenched fist comes pummeling into my face, knocking me backwards.

It's his ally that I just killed. I look at his eyes, angry and tearful. I just murdered his friend. Guilt swells in my chest, but I draw the sword back up, scaring him away. "You're all the same," he spits, matted blonde hair over his face and a crooked black tie. "I hope you suffer."

The words hit me like a hammer, confusing me. I barely have enough time to register the words before the other tributes are upon us. I'm suddenly dodging fists and the swipes of knives, attempting to run towards the Cornucopia. I briefly see Nelida throw a knife, Calder fighting off the boy from District Eight, and Haven jamming as many backpacks into his arms as possible.

My back hits the edge of the shell. A deep breath escapes my body, and the urge to buckle is at an all time high. But I can only see the now deceased corpse of my first kill.

And I'll never forget. I can only use it to motivate me, to remind me that I can do this. That I have to do this. I move away, running back into the thick of things.

* * *

**Onatah Fletcher, District Eleven Female.**

* * *

When my boots hit the floor and skid from beneath my feet, I know now that the floor is smothered in slivers of glass. Oh, well, this isn't dangerous. Maybe that's the point.

I charge forwards, heading for the Cornucopia. I barely glimpse over the fallen body of a tribute, but instantly freeze when I notice the familiar hairstyle that Mako complimented that fateful day. Reed, already dead. Whoever got him got him good. Sickness rises in my throat, but I swallow and move on. You can only but move on. I run straight for the gladius, propped up against the side. I grasp the cool metal and instantly feel safer, despite the chaos.

I take a few moments to slide around the outer skin, watching the fight. I move quick and slick, no-one dare coming closer than necessary. Everyone is fighting too wildly, clawing and screaming and desperately trying to make their exit.

I notice a door, no wait, two. Two large doors on either side of the cylinder room, open and free. I can see the slight side of cracked tiles and looming shadows, where the wood stops and the real world ends.

Tierna and Sienna, though, are somewhere. I try and look, but the constant distraction of black and white makes my head hurt. I plant my feet carefully on the tail of the Cornucopia - placing the handle of the sword into my mouth, holding it steady with strong teeth - as I begin to scale the slippery surface. I scramble faster and faster for the top, fearing that someone might be after me.

As I reach the top and grab hold of the gladius, I spot the red hair amidst the chaos. I open my mouth to scream her name, but catch myself. No, she wouldn't do the same for me, so why should I? Allies or not, Sienna has been nothing but be a bitch to me for no apparent reason. I bite down on my tongue and search for Tierna instead, levelling the sword out.

I hear a short gasp. I spin around, my boots sliding against the skin. I aim the sword up high, the girl from District Four still on the banister. She looks at me with petrified eyes. I want to snort - you're a Career, girl, you aren't suppose to be scared - but I hold that in too. I watch her, movements that seem to show that she's as worried as I feel.

"Carnelian!" she screams.

My eyes widen. "Kiara!" another voice chimes back. I guess that's Carnelian. I barely have time to react, before a hand has grasped onto my ankle. The world pitches forward as I'm tugged, slamming down chin first against the skin. Stars pepper my eyes as I'm easily dragged from the top of the Cornucopia, landing awkwardly on the glass. A few pieces scratch my face, but the agony in my chin is much worse.

Whoever my attacker is, they grab me by the hair, dragging me onto my feet. I whimper, the sword still on the roof. It's out of reach, and I'm out of luck. I try to pull, but the balled fist only pulls on my hair harder. My breath hitches in my throat and - rather than fight against him or her - I throw myself backwards.

The attacker doesn't expect it. The back of my head collides with a nose, loosening the grip. I spin around and angrily punch Caine from District Two, not caring that he's the largest and meanest tribute.

"Caine," Carnelian from District One comes running over now, sabre in hand. "Kiara still hasn't got down."

I grit my teeth, backing up. My back hits the skin, and I'm surrounded by the two male Careers. "We'll get her after, like I suggested already," Caine answers, running his fingers over the oncoming bruise. I should smirk triumphantly, but even I'm not an idiot to taunt them. "Go and help Calder or Haven."

When neither are looking, I bolt for it, only to have Caine grab onto my shoulder and spin me around. The world spins and lands on his face, which sends enough adrenaline to allow me to punch out again. He catches the fist this time, though, crunching it under his larger hand. I scream in agony, using the heel of my boot instead, jabbing it into his knee.

He buckles and I run, fear spiking at my heart. Tierna's face comes into view and I run harder, ignoring everyone around me. She sees me last minute, before I'm grabbing her by the hand and pushing her up against the wall. "Find Sienna and go!" I practically scream in her face. "Our plan is done."

"W-Wh-"

"Run out of this door," I jab my finger at one of the two large doors in this hall. "I'll grab some things and follow," I look down at her knife, not her chosen weapon but still. "You have protection so go!"

I hurriedly push her back into the thick of things, desperate to find Sienna once more. I make a beeline for the outer perimeter, ignoring the sweat building on my hairline, or the way my heart has begun to palpitate.

"N-No, p-please!" a voice slams into me, causing me to pause. I throw myself up against the brick wall, the shadows of the Cornucopia masking me. Quinn from District Seven backs up as far as possible, before she collides into the wall. "P-Please..." she begs.

"I'm sorry." a timid voice whispers. Then, I hear a whistle of metal before a knife is jutting out of her stomach. She clutches the weapon, crumpling to the floor. I see the shine of tears in her eyes, as her head tilts towards me. Everything inside of me feels guilty, but I can't look away, watching the life drain from her eyes.

It's just like before. Like the other girls. At least, what I imagined happened. I swallow thickly, tearing my eyes away as her head falls limp.

I scramble up the tail of the Cornucopia once more, stretching enough to scoop the gladius back into my hand. My stomach knots and fear runs through my skin coldly. I can't push Quinn's image from my head, despite only be a spectator. I slide back down, seeing Sienna and Tierna now running for the large door I mentioned, loaded with weapons and a backpack. I hastily run to catch them up, leaving the madness behind.

But it's only just begun. As I run out of the hall, I hear the violence drifting away. But it'll never go away. I push everything deep inside of me, like I've always done, and run down the tiled hallway that Sienna and Tierna went down.

* * *

**Nelida Callous, District Two Female.**

* * *

The knife lands in her stomach. It takes a few moments for her words to leave my mind, resonating over and over again. It doesn't feel real. My first ever kill, and it was a girl my age, pleading for her life. Most people get a kick out of it, but for me, it feels surreal, like I'm not here and she's not there and these aren't my knives.

But they are. And I killed her without mercy.

I watch Quinn from District Seven die, her blood pooling on the hardwood floor. Something inside of me twists and turns, the urge to gag becoming prominent. I didn't give her a chance; but no-one gave me a chance. I'm here to win, like the others. I won't be playing this any differently than I would during training.

Slowly, I step backwards, unable to peel my eyes away from the now deceased corpse. It feels... different. Killing a dummy is one thing, but this, this is new. I've never killed someone before...

I slide around the edge of the Cornucopia, dipping into the lip. I catch a glimpse of Calder and Haven, working together to fight away Temperance and her little monkey, though the crazed girl seems to have an upper hand over Haven. I should go and help, and yet, my body feels obliged to stay here. Carnelian's orders were for me to stay and guard the Cornucopia alongside Kiara, but the small girl is still trapped on the balcony, safe.

When Angora from District Eight gets too close, I throw my knife, warning her away. Her eyes are fearful as she throws herself down on the ground to avoid the attack, landing on the glass. Her face contorts in pain as she scurries away.

Does she know her ally is dead? She was always with that Quinn girl. I remember seeing them at the books. Guilt floods my body, but I swallow it all down, unable to handle it. I'm not aiming to kill for fun. Though, this year, I doubt anyone is. The reality of the situation is far worse than anyone imagined. No-one is going down easily.

"Nelida," Carnelian appears, flushed. "How... how is everything going?"

We step further into the safety of the horn. "Fine," I say coolly, stepping back when he steps too close. "Have you been running around?"

"Keeping the morale up," he answers with a smile. The leader who tries too hard. It'll be the death of him. "And we can't get Kiara down yet. So I wanted to make sure you were fine on your own."

I smile slightly. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Though, in all honesty, I doubt Kiara being here would be help. She'd want to chat and gossip rather than do the job. At least up there, she's not only safe, but she's out the way of the rest of us. We can't afford distractions.

Carnelian falls down, breathing hard. "Man, I'm tired," he laughs weakly. "But no rest for the wicked. I think Caine will be over soon, to grab a supply or something."

From over his shoulder, I see Angora escape through one of the doors, to freedom and beyond. That's just another person gone, and with only two bodies on the floor, time is ticking. For some reason, I don't think Carnelian will be happy, but for different reasons. Not for the deaths, but the lack of spirit. I saw Caine once, and he looked ready to have a panic attack or something.

But as Carnelian is about to leave, a boy pounces through the entrance, knocking Carnelian back against the shell. He hits it hard with a thump, buckling to the floor. I barely have any time to react before a swift punch connects with my cheek, sending me reeling. Stars explode in my vision as I land awkwardly on the crates and boxes, the sharp edges winding me.

I hear a scuffle. I pull the knife from a packet nearby, spin, and then throw. It cuts through the air as the boy pushes Carnelian, my knife sliding into his upper arm. He howls, and it's only then that I recognise the long hair as being Cypress from District Twelve.

Carnelian gains the upper hand, but I feel the need to join in. I aim the next knife, and throw again, this time landing in his thigh. As blood begins to pool at his moving feet, Carnelian is able to get him into a choke hold. The shadows illuminate half of Cypress' face, before his neck is snapped to the side, life drained from his eyes. Carnelian lets him go, his body crumpling to the side, landing on a few orange backpacks. Blood continues to slowly drip from his knife wounds.

Worse of all? I'm almost sure one of his allies is already dead. I let Angora go because I took away her ally, but we just killed a boy knowing that we already took his ally. It makes me feel... dirty.

"Not how I planned," Carnelian frowns. "Sorry, man," he steps forward, collecting his sabre. "Are you okay, Nelida?"

I can feel the bruise forming already. But, in reality, it's nothing. "I'm fine," I answer. "You better go. In case someone else decides to pop in for a visit."

He laughs lightly. "Stay strong. Remember, a team is only as strong as long as every member tries their hardest. Apart from Kiara, of course."

"Of course." I smile shakily.

Sabre in hand, Carnelian runs out into the chaos. It takes a few moments to gain my breath back, so I sit down on a crate. Once more, it takes a while for me to peel my eyes away from the corpse, bile rising in my throat. I never really expected it to be like this. Guess it shows my naivety. Still, I have to continue. I stand and collect my two knives from his body, my own body shaking from nerves and disgust.

It'll only get worse, surely.

I step over his body and stand guard at the entrance once more, adjusting the shirt and ascot. I fiddle with a button, numbness swiftly riding my body. It'll pass, but for now, it's better if it stays. It'll help me cope with the rest of this time. I can only hope more tributes decide to run.

* * *

**Venice Woitel, District Six Female.**

* * *

I dodge the well-aimed punch from the girl from District Ten, her body much smaller than me. As quick as a flash, I thrust my palm into her chest, forcing her backwards. I don't want to fight, I just want to run and get out of here.

In the confusion, I try and get away, going for the backpack that we were both heading towards. I grasp the handle and yank it upwards, but she's back again, lips peeled into a gasp as she realises that it's mine. She fights with me for it, tugging back and forth, but I cease when I see another tribute heading towards us. The girl falls backwards and I quickly abandon ship, heading for something else.

I can't cope. Not here, not out there. Each time I feel like I keep the fear and everything under control, it spills over the top. I can feel the anger and tension inside of me. I hate this, I hate the pressure and the expectations and the constant fear that someone is going to kill me. I just want out of here, is that so bad? It obviously is, considering I can't take anything without someone else wanting it. But then I should fight for it, and at the same time, I want to give up and find something else, just because it's easier.

Grabbing the next backpack I see and a simple knife, I spin around and throw myself to the floor. I press my body against the hardwood, scanning at the feet of my opponents. Ash wouldn't have left, but we had no plan. Oh God, Ash is probably waiting for me.

"Venice!" I hear his voice, and at first, I'm sure it's in my head. But then a hand is grabbing my wrist and plucking me up from the ground. I turn, ready to stab, only to see Ash pulling me to safety against the wall. I barely manage to smile before he's jerking his head towards one of the doors.

Nodding, we run for it. The boy from District Three and the girl from District Nine are suddenly escaping, and I make sure to note their images down. They're my competition for later, I think bitterly.

A scream pierces the air. My heart freezes and I stop, Ash's hand fleeting from mine. I spin around, seeing Rhett pressed against the wall, a knife tucked deep into his stomach, the boy from District Ten looking mildly proud.

Our eyes meet. I soon remember all the times that I felt sorry for Rhett, on how he was discriminated and bullied.

But whilst my mind clouds and my veins run cold, I know I can't save him. He's not my responsibility; he's never been. I swallow down all the guilt, turning away and running out the entrance with Ash.

I can feel the eyes on me as we run down the halls, my wrist trapped in Ash's hand. The accusing, disgusted stares. He was my district partner, and I refused to help him.

Would Ash reject Quinn's help? But then I remember seeing her dead body, and even more guilt floods my body for thinking about her like that. It's really happening. It's just... it's not real, it doesn't feel real. It's like I'm disconnected, looking on as a door appears, and Ash is swinging it open wildly, throwing me in.

He slams the door shut. My legs turn to jelly, causing me to stagger. I fall against the bookcase, grasping onto the shelf.

Ash steps forward. "I'm sorry, Venice," he mutters. "I... I saw..."

His words are like hammers. I feel dirty and ashamed, and I want to be annoyed at Ash because he got the luck of never seeing Quinn die like that, but even that leaves my skin crawling. I don't know what to think or do, but Ash is there. "Sorry..." I apologise. "It was... overwhelming."

"I bet," he smiles sadly. "How many... how many did you see?" he barely manages, as if the words are hard to swallow. I nod weakly, knowing the feeling.

"...four, I think. Quinn and Rhett, and then the boy from District Eleven..."

"Reed," Ash inputs. Of course he'd know; it's something that he'd do. He's kind like that. "That's three. Poor Quinn..."

I scan my mind, but it's useless. It probably was three then. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. I look around the room, which looks like the classroom at my old school. Oh yeah, great memories they were. I'm going to die in the place that is a copy of the worst place in District Six. Isn't that ironic? The room is simple, with nothing but a chalkboard, a few singular desks and a bookcase. It's as bland as the ones I used to sit in.

I walk over to a seat and slide in, letting the emotions slide away. Rhett was just my district partner... he wasn't my ally. He would have had to die eventually, but at least it was quick. I hope it was, though. I couldn't tell, but his cry was so hurt and strained... he needed me, and I walked. No, no, I promised myself that I wouldn't let him drag me down.

Ash slides into the seat opposite me. "We'll have to move soon, though," he clarifies. "We're too close to the bloodbath."

Another shriek hits the air. Battle cries, the chiming of metal, the stomping of feet. We're too close for my liking. "Yeah. Yeah we'll leave in a moment or so. The Careers will probably stay around their wonderful supplies."

"You got a backpack though," he perks up, pointing at the orange satchel on my shoulder with a smile. "We have something at least."

"Just this and a knife for me, an axe for you."

"We can use these," he smiles. "Hey, that window is barricaded," he points over my shoulder. I turn around, seeing the metal plate that takes up half the wall. He's right. "Do you think it has something to do with that bomb warning or something?"

I look up, the light weak and diluted. It flickers every now and then, giving the room an eerie feel. I bet school was always like this. "Possibly," I answer quietly. "We'll soon find out though."

Who knows what is happening outside. When we leave this room, we'll find out, though. It leaves me unsettled. The noises of the bloodbath continue, leaving me on edge. I feel like my throat is tight and my heart is clenched. Ash can only smile, as if the truth of things hasn't hit him. When the time is right, we'll leave. And when the time is right, I'll probably go down kicking and screaming.

That's a promise.

* * *

**Corin Roscoe, District Nine Male.**

* * *

My back slams into the wall, pain ripping through my shoulder blade. The girl from District Ten - Audrey, I believe - wears a proud smile at the feat, standing before me.

"That's not very nice," I breathe, flicking my tongue across my bottom lip. "Shouldn't play with fire. Or me, for that matter."

I lunge forward, but the girl is fast. She slips to the side and avoids the punch, before grabbing onto my wrist and giving it a firm twist. I don't howl in pain - that's just weird - but I have to steady my breathing. I push myself backwards, trapping her between my back and the wall. I lift back, and slam hard, gaining a squeak.

But then her ally is running over, his eyes wild, as if he's never seen it happen before. He's been here the whole time, I'm sure he saw a few fall. I yank my fist free and dart away, unable to handle the pair of them. I didn't expect the girl to be so good. It's obviously the adrenaline that's controlling her because she's otherwise very average. But with the boy, well, I guess I might be overpowered.

I smirk, seeing Temperance cruelly duel Nelida. Temperance gains the upper hand in the sword fight and forces Nelida into the horn, just before she grabs onto the backpack and spins around.

"Temperance!" I shout.

With a cruel smile, Temperance comes bounding over, just as something hard hits the back of my head. I fall down, the wind knocked from my lungs. I hear the squeaks of the boots on the hardwood floor, before a twisted battle cry is emitted. I smile and roll over, kicking myself upwards.

Temperance leaps forward with her sword. The whole time she's told me that poison was more her thing because it's fascinating to watch the body convulse and break, but apparently, knives and swords are just as good, if not better. I like Temperance; from looks, you'd just think she's crazy, not a deluded killer.

Her sword counters with Audrey's long knife. I run forward as Jute tries to intervene.

"Oh, I don't think so," I chant, countering his knife with my glaive. With a flick and a twist, I'm able to disarm him with ease, forcing him back against the wall. "I've got him. You take the girl."

Temperance smiles, forcing Audrey back out into the chaos. "With pleasure. Though you best keep your eye on the goal."

I blink a few times, as Jute is able to push me back. Again, he attempts to run to try and help Audrey, but I catch his ankle with my glaive, bringing him to the floor. The hook has ripped his trousers, revealing a hidden knife the boy has slipped into his boot. My eyes widen as he spins around, sliding it out and jabbing forward. I jump back, giving him the time to get back up.

He's another one I underestimated. He was a weird one, I remember, always looking like he was on drugs, or sniffing the cotton like some of the workers do back in District Nine. Looks like the situation can make anyone into a desperate fighter.

I leap backwards, aiming the glaive in defence. He seems unsure, focusing his eyes on me, his silver blade pointing at my stomach. He doesn't even let his eyes flicker at his ally.

"You're impressive," I admit, though my stomach churns at the mere words. "I didn't think you'd be a fighter," I round around on him, flipping the glaive over to the knife side. "I underestimated you."

He doesn't reply, lips pressed into a line. He looks like he's going to be sick. I jump forward and stab. He slides out the way, the knife barely missing him. I bring the stick to the side swiftly, hitting him with the wooden staff. He grabs the pole and attempts to pull, but I hold back. That's when he jumps forward, brandishing the knife still.

I don't have time to move. The blade slides straight into my upper arm. I howl in agony, fire ripping across my flesh. He pulls the knife free and blood begins to stain the white shirt. Anger soon overtakes pain, and I slam the stick even harder into his side. He buckles, and I jut the heel of my boot into his lower stomach, sending him to the floor. I spin the glaive around - the knife bright and shiny - before shooting it the floor.

"Jute!" a shrill scream pierces the air.

I turn, Audrey having stopped to call for her fallen ally. In a split second, Temperance drives the sword into her gut, running her through until she hits the wall. Jute howls, and the next moment, he's up and fleeing. I attempt to run after him, but my shoulder throbs in pain, causing me to pause. Temperance releases her sword and walks over, hair cascading over half of her face.

"Don't bother," she speaks. "The weak shall run, but the weaker will chase. You'll get him later," she echoes, turning around. "Another one bites the dust."

"Carnelian..." I turn around, Haven standing opposite us. An awkward smile peels on his lips. "What do I do?" he asks. Carnelian comes bounding over, his eyes lit up.

"Oh," he mouths. "I-"

"Don't stress, Carnelian," Temperance cuts him off. "I think it'll be more poetic if we wait for our valiant fight. Right now, set your sights on cleaning up the weaker ones. Gain some experience for when it comes to fighting someone out of your league," she holds her sword proud, the end stained with Audrey's blood. "A sword is as great as the wielder. You need to get on par with a mighty weapon like a sabre."

His eyes narrow. "So, what, you're letting us go?" he laughs a little. "I don't think we need your permission. I-I don't need your permission."

"Think of it as a treat," I jump in, smiling. Tributes begin to scatter, and when I look around, I realise that everyone is gone. Only the Careers and us are left. "Something to aspire towards."

One by one, the others come over. Nelida, Calder and Caine. I look up, Kiara perched over the balcony, eyes blinking rapidly. I can't help but smirk and point, causing Temperance to chuckle as well. "I think you need to regroup," Temperance teases, before throwing her head back in a dramatic flip of twisted blonde hair. "We'll see you later, Carnelian."

Temperance stalks off. I hold my eyes against the Careers, and whilst I should feel proud or even happy, I feel nervous. We're painting bigger and bigger targets on our backs by taunting them. Slowly, I follow Temperance through the door, never moving my eyes from Caine.

"Can someone please get Kiara down?" I hear Carnelian's exhausted voice as we continue to walk, causing me to laugh again.

We pace down the hallways, pass the doors. Lockers line some of the walls, battered and broken. Doors hang on their hinges, contents spilled on the floor haphazardly, beaten and broken. The lights flicker every now and then, leaving a ghostly glow on the tiled flooring. Metal panels cover the windows, and the only thing not tarnished is the wooden doors to many upon many rooms. Ugh, school, the mere memory sends me into disgust. So many lovers and fake friends and enemies. Far too dramatic and needless.

"Where to?" I ask Temperance as we stop at a board. Inside, a map is pressed, torn and burned at the edges.

"There," she says, jabbing her finger at the glass case. "Gymnasium."

* * *

**Haven Hemlock, District Ten Male.**

* * *

Calder skilfully climbs the Cornucopia, Kiara jumping up and down on top.

"Yay, thank you Cal!" she cheers as he offers a hand. Kiara grasps and leaps, landing hard on the shell. Nimbly, she slides off, rushing over towards us. Compared to the rest of us, Kiara is looking fine, with neat hair pulled back into a ponytail and a plaid skirt. I shake my head; but everyone else has taken damage of some sort. "I can't believe I missed out on everything." she pouts.

"You were lucky," Carnelian points out. "Though we could've used the back-up. Things got intense."

Although I highly doubt Kiara would've been that helpful. She tussles her skirt, smiling. "It looks nice, doesn't it?"

Everyone seems to look at Nelida, who wears an identical skirt. She seems to shrink a little from the attention, looking at something interesting in the distance.

"Yeah, very nice," I quickly add, causing Kiara to grin. "Better than these ties," I pull hopelessly at the black choker, pulling it away. I didn't think it'd get that hot in here, but the adrenaline and nerves has my blood pumping. I look at Carnelian, who is the only boy wearing a bow tie instead. "Why have you got a bow tie?" I frown.

"Must be districts," he shrugs, lips pulled into a frown. "Corin had one too."

Oh, so favouritism. I let the annoyance go quickly, though, remembering the bracelet on my wrist. It feels heavier, stronger, more emotionally full. I wonder what he'd think, seeing me like this? He'd hate me. He'd be disgusted, but it wouldn't change the want of me coming home. I let the mace fall to my side, looking around. No-one says anything. Everyone just stands, looking and expecting for Carnelian to give commands. But the boy is weak from battle and Temperance's challenge, his face crestfallen.

Caine steps up for him. "Split up. Check how many fallen we have."

No-one argues with the walking golem. Everyone walks away - apart from Kiara, who skips at Calder's side - to search. Instantly, I find the body of the District Eleven boy, face-down in a pool of his own blood. "One!" I shout.

"Two!" Caine booms, standing over the girl from District Seven, Quinn.

"Three," Nelida joins, at the mouth of the Cornucopia. "And four," she adds, pointing towards Rhett from District Six, slumped against the wall and wearing a sad smile.

My eyes fall on Audrey. My gut twists uncomfortably, her eyes open and lifeless and looking straight at me - no, through me - and I don't know what to say or think. We were never anything but acquaintances, but the girl was nice if not quiet. I step back a little, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Five." I answer.

Carnelian hums. I hear footsteps before I turn, going back to the group forming. "So five," he decides. It's not that he sounds displeased, but I think the toll on him has truly begun. Sponsors would've affected someone so perfect to lead the Careers into murdering over half, no doubt. "That's not bad," he decides. "At least it's over now." he sighs.

On command, everyone starts to search through a few backpacks. We take medical supplies, dry food, a few knives and everyone collects a weapon.

"I want a sword," Kiara pouts. She looks around, before landing on Caine. "What's that? Is that a sword?"

"Sabre," he corrects her. "Try inside the Cornucopia."

The hand of the District Twelve tribute peeks out of the shadows. Kiara looks a little unsettled as she steps over, disappearing into the darkness. It takes a few moments of silence before Kiara screams.

Everyone spins around, as Kiara runs out the shell. "There's someone in there!"

I roll my eyes. Of course, she didn't know about the dead body. Kiara can be really naive at times. But Carnelian still steps forward, kindly placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's one of the deceased, Kiara."

She shakes her head. "No! A living person!"

His eyes fall open. He turns around, and Caine nods, stepping forward. He enters the shadows and another scream happens, this one a girl. My heart thumps a little as Caine drags a kicking body out of the shadows, white-blond hair and black tights skewed. It's the klepto, Audra or something. I remember patting my pockets, making sure she didn't steal my leather bracelet. Looks like her district partner abandoned her after all then.

She screams and shouts. Caine flips her over, revealing a scared face. "P-P-Please..."

I swallow thickly. Carnelian seems to nod curtly, face tightened. Caine obeys his orders and swiftly picks her up, wrapping his arm around her neck. Tears stream her face, lips quivering. "Please d-d-don't kill me, p-p-please..."

With a twist of his arms, Caine snaps her neck. Her body falls limp in his hold. Gently, he puts her down, leaving her on the floor. "Six." he answers coldly.

Carnelian picks back up some enthusiasm. "Right guys, we should go now we have everything," Everybody takes a backpack and their respective weapon, heading for the door. I give the room one long, last look - the puddles of blood contrasting with the hardwood floor - before leaving it all behind. "We should head for somewhere large or safe. Hunting right now would be stupid." Carnelian continues to talk.

Nobody questions his leadership. He's a nice leader, which could be worse. My whole body feels numb and heavy, and I have to drag myself to keep up with the others. Everyone seems downtrodden, with Kiara being the only exception of pure cheer. Even Carnelian's positivity can only stretch for so long. We follow down the halls, an unnerving feel smothering me. There's just something about the whole scenery. The fact I can't see outside is even worse.

Suddenly, a loud boom happens, shaking the halls and causing everyone to pause. My heart thumps in my throat as silence descends. Something clatters and breaks in the distance, cutting through the silence. I briefly remember the warning at the beginning, about the bombs and soldiers.

"Guess what?" Kiara says, turning around to face us. "I think we're at war."

I don't know whether she means the arena or the Hunger Games, but for once, Kiara makes sense. Kinda.

* * *

**Dust To Dust by the Civil Wars.**

* * *

**T****he blog for this story is_ ffyl hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**Reed Wolfe, District Eleven.**

**Quinn Tarly, District Seven.**

**Cypress Flint, District Twelve.**

**Rhett Emery, District Six.**

**Aubrey Turner, District Ten.**

**Audra Kincaid, District Five.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Conspiracy, Sam, Bookworm, Pika and you are with me, I'm very sorry for their demise. It was a hard decision, but they had to go for the story to progress. A special thanks to dark clouds, because Audra was my favourite character out of them all. But her time had ended, and I didn't want to ruin such an intense character.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**_POV that stood out?_**

**_Death that stood out, for whatever reason?_**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Just for reference: Odd district boys (1, 3, 5 etc) boys wear bow ties with their shirts, whereas even district boys (2, 4, 6 etc) wear actual ties. Girls are in shirts, skirts, tights and an ascot. Yeah, I've planned this too thoroughly...**

**The bloodbath is over! I don't know whether it was exciting or not, it's always tricky.**

**And we're in a war-torn school. Barricaded in, bombs, sirens etc. and yes, I got inspiration from my new anime love don't judge me all of you -.-**

**Poll results are up! They didn't really have an affect on my choices, but it was nice to know that Jem won yet again. Though do I believe my eyes? A Career in second place? :o**


	9. Run

**Run.**

_Even if you cannot hear my voice, I'll be right beside you dear._

* * *

**Jute Phillips, District Eight Male.**

* * *

_Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom._

Each cannon shakes the walls as I sprint, pumping my arms and legs. I barely managed to escape, at the cost of Audrey's life. The feeling of her name brings me to a stop. I use the wall as support as I gag, retching and tearing up my insides. I'm nervous and scared and sick. I slow my breathing down, clenching around my heart. I need to think things through.

I shake my head and continue to jog, feeling the burn in my calves. I don't have many supplies, but I'm hoping there's one place that does.

I follow the sign that says Kitchen, feeling my mouth water. I can only hope they have something seeing as I forgot my backpack. Oh, and a weapon. I bet they have knives too. I keep running until two doors appear, made of metal. They contrast with the wooden surroundings. I pause, looking through the circular windows. The entire kitchen is metal and shiny, glittering under the dusty lights. My eyes land on the equipment, before falling on the fridge.

Smiling, I gently push the door open, careful to not make too much noise. I remember that. Darek - or it could've been Pippin? - told me to keep noises to a minimum. Someone also told me about keeping my footsteps in time with someone else, to make it sound like one person. But I don't have to worry about that anymore... there is only me now...

My stomach flips as I'm hit with the smell of mold. I swallow thickly, lips curling up in disgust. Where is it?

For the first time in a while, I seem to focus, curiosity getting the better of me. I open up the cupboards and pantries, revealing tins and boxes of food that aren't really edible unless you cook. I doubt we have the electricity. Frowning, I have one place to look, and as my hand falls on the handle, I realise that I'm probably going to puke.

The wave of smell makes my stomach knot, acid rising in my throat. Rotten food, piled high, a green aura surrounding most things. I slam the door shut just as quick.

Everywhere else is useless. I flick the switch, even though I know we have nothing. But then I flick again and again, hoping and praying. I crane my head into the high cupboards, hoping to find something. I don't know what, but something would be good. Maybe a camera. Or a knife. Maybe even something to cook that soup I saw. My stomach growls as I close the cupboard door, defeated.

I head towards the door until I realise about a weapon. I never found anything! I frantically search through the drawers and cupboards again, pausing when I come across a small, scribbled note, crumpled and thrown. I grab the note and open it up, smoothing the creases. The thick, black writing stands out.

What is it? I scan the style. It's a letter. A letter to... my heart freezes as my eyes land on the name. My blood runs cold, nails of fear clawing at my back. It's... it's to me.

My name is clear. Jute Phillips. But the handwriting is foreign, and the words do nothing but encourage the acid to flood my tongue.

A death threat to... to me? It falls from my hand. I can't think or speak or breathe. My heart pulsates in my throat, my fingers and arms feeling detached from my body.

And then it comes rushing at me. I stagger, my legs turning into gelatin. The same kind that's moldy, no doubt. I frantically search for the knives, finding a blunt kitchen one. It'll do. I run before I can comprehend the noise I'm matching, clattering around in the metal room. I burst through the doors and run, my mind a blur.

It's a trick. It has to be a trick. I have't... I wouldn't...

I charge up the nearest staircase, looking almighty. I pass the boards, little images that don't even faze me. I can't stop, I won't stop, not when... not when...

I burst through the nearest door, the wooden frame clattering against the wall. I snap my head around, seeing the array of figurines and models. I must be in an art room of sorts. Ceramics, actually. But, that doesn't matter. I slam the door shut and begin to pull chairs and tables towards it, barricading myself in the room. Pots and clay statutes fall and smash, but again, I don't care. My mind has one though and that's the poisonous letter.

When I feel safe enough, I stop, bending to pick up a small, fallen statue. It's a cherub or something, with chubby cheeks and wings. It looks kinda cute. Something this cute shouldn't be in a place like this, not when it could easily be harmed. I wonder if I could make one? I shake my head: focus, Jute, focus.

I scan my surroundings, another thing someone taught me. I think that one was Audrey. One window shut, and two wooden doors. One I've barricaded, but the other with a hefty, metal lock. We're obviously not suppose to go in that room, whatever it is. Maybe it's the furnace for the clay monuments?

Outside, something crashes. A siren wails, slivers of red light peeking around the edge of the metal plate protecting the window. Another crash. More clay figures fall, smashing at my feet. I blink a few times, looking around at the destruction. Nothing feels right anymore. If Audrey was here, she'd be able to tell me about things. She knew a lot about a lot of stuff. I miss her...

I sit in the last chair, guilt and fear weighing me down. I should've ripped that letter up. Torn and shredded. It might've been nothing but a ploy to scare me - which worked - or it could've been something else... maybe they're going to target me? I didn't read too much into the words. Blood and body parts was enough to understand what they wanted to do to me.

I place the small cherub figurine in my lap. It reminds me of Audrey, silent and chubby.

I don't know what I'm going to do, or when even. All I know is that I'm safe in here for the time being. Eventually, they'll smoke me out, but I can feel content for now. They can't harm me. Not yet, not yet.

I crane my head towards the other door, the one with the lock. The window is stained. I get up, clinging the Audrey doll to my chest. I peek through - scrubbing away the grime with a grimace - only to see a blackened room. No flickering lights like the rest of the school has. It's just dark and smothering. My blood runs cold again, though, because why would an empty room need to be locked up? My guess of it being the furnace seems so wrong now.

Audrey would know. She knew everything. I slump back into my seat and stay rooted.

I don't know what to do without her... I feel so lost.

* * *

**Jem Calvert, District Three Male.**

* * *

I whistle as we enter the room. The ceiling seems higher than anywhere else, glass chandeliers cascading down onto the separate wooden benches. It looks so regal and defined.

"This must be where they ate," Sian comments, holding the backpack over her shoulder tight. "Like, if they were real. I bet Capitol children went here or something."

"And they kicked the little puppies from their lap of luxury to murder us in here instead. Yeah, I bet they weren't happy," I joke, stepping in alongside her. I kick the bench lightly, just to prove it's solid wood. If those children were real, there must have been hundreds of them. You could probably fit the entire population of District Three in this room. "Wow, this just reminds me of how much I hated school."

Sian falls down onto the nearest bench. "Really? I enjoyed school." she blushes.

"Nerd. You would've been perfect for District Three," I laugh. "Nah, school was never my thing. It was too hard to concentrate."

Sian smiles. "I'm sure you would've been the smartest kid if you tried harder."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," I wink, before turning around. The hall stretches and, at the side, there's a metal door with an oval window, behind some counter. "D'you think they'll be some food?"

She cranes her head and then stands up, shrugging. "It'd be too easy to just leave us something," she sighs heavily, like she's wearing a burden. I nudge her playfully, wearing a smile. She agreed that she'd be the positive one all the time; I can only try, but it's not as natural for me as it is for Sian. "Oh, yeah. I mean, we could look, if you want."

My gut twists uncomfortably. She's right; it'd be too easy to leave us something. It's probably a trap, luring us in with the prospect of safety. When silence falls over, you can hear the air whistling through, leaving a constant chill. Even with metal panes covering the windows, you can feel the cold air biting at your flesh. Suddenly, the silence is broken by clattering and banging, coming from what I suspect is the kitchen.

Sian's eyes widen and she steps forward, unsure, as if wanting to run and help. I place my hand in front of her, stopping her in her potential track of kindness. "No," I say sadly. "It's too risky."

A door slams. I step back, forcing Sian with me. It's not our fight nor our place. We both agreed to keep calm and together, not running and fighting and trying to save people. It was our tactic for the bloodbath, which is why we're one of the luckier alliances to have no casualties. Most lost someone. "We don't help..." Sian echoes my thoughts.

"Exactly," I frown. "I'm sorry. I know you want to help everyone you come into contact with," I place my hand on her shoulder, an act of comfort. The noise ceases, the silence returning. "But I don't want to lose you. Not yet. And I'd rather not get injured so soon... Nico would kill me."

She laughs lightly. "You use your friend Nico as an excuse a lot."

"What can I say? Nico keeps me on the straight and narrow," I laugh, partly because it's true, partly because he'll slap me when - no, if - I return. "If it wasn't for him and Amaran, I wouldn't have much."

"I won't pry," she smiles sweetly. "But yeah, you're right. You just gotta be my anchor sometimes."

When everything turns back to reasonable safety - though it won't last long, but oh well, I wasn't expecting it to - me and Sian begin to scour the large room. It's pretty impressive, but nothing too helpful. No hidden supplies or passages. I was half-expecting a secret door to be hidden behind the large open fire at the end, which didn't happen, and my excitement quickly vanished. The counter where they must serve the food is also pointless, with empty tins and a foul odor hanging in the air.

We both agreed not to go in the kitchen, but I peek through the window, just to make sure no-one was on the other side, waiting to strike.

"Anything?" Sian calls from down the hall. I turn, eyes widen and a finger to my lips. She instantly shakes her head. "I'm sorry." she says much more quieter.

And Sian Amsorry has returned. I smirk, waving it away. "It's fine," I echo. "But no, absolutely bare."

She quickly hurries over, as a siren blares from outside. She doesn't seem alarmed - I have to chuckle at that joke - as she reaches me. "Me neither," she shrugs. "I guess there isn't much point to this room. It's just for decoration, it seems," she steps forward, not watching where she's going. Her boot clips mine, as she flies into my body. I barely catch her, the wind forced from my lungs. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's totally fine," I laugh between heavy breaths. "You really need to stop apologising, though. I'm not going to cut you down because of an accident."

She blushes. "It's just... kinda like word vomit. I'm so used to having to do it."

"I won't pry," I mimic her words, even using her voice. She pouts playfully, slapping me across the chest. "No seriously, I won't. Here if you need me, and all that mushy crap." I add with a smile.

Sian simply smiles as walks towards the back. "I think this corner is good. You can see all the angles and everything," she turns and smiles. "See? I'm as good as you."

"I never said you weren't," I laugh, following. "Well done."

We fall into our corner, sorting through the backpacks we have. With two orange bags, we have a decent amount of food, a knife each, some bandages, a flare, and even a mixing bowl. Oh, not to mention the weapons we do have; well, my flail too, but I hope I won't have to use it. Sian pulls out some small glass vials, holding them in her hands. "What do you think these are for?" she asks.

I stare at the small label. "It says poison, like, right there," I poke the label, laughing lightly. "I guess you make some and store it in there... so you don't hurt yourself? I don't know. If I was a stereotype, I'd spill out some useless knowledge. But yeah. Poison equals bad." I shrug.

She pulls out a few bags of powder, a multitude of colours. "And I guess these are the ingredients?"

"No offense, but do you know anything about making poisons?" I prod, hoping not to offend her.

"I'm sure there's a book in here somehow. I mean, this is a place of learning, right?" she smiles, hopeful.

"Yeah I guess so. You lucked out then."

"Yeah," she sighs happily. For a split moment, with the silence, I forget where I am. It feels just like the chaotic home I came from, where the noise was a comfort. "I guess we both did?"

I guess we both did. For now, at least.

* * *

**Lyle Flinch, District Five Male.**

* * *

My gut twists as I duck into the classroom, closing the door gently. With six dead, I already know that Audra is one of them. I never saw her leave. She never bothered to come near me, not after she broke my trust in her.

I don't know how to feel about it. Emotional, I crumple in the corner of the darkened room, curling my knees to my chest.

I left her. I left the girl who was my ally. But why did she steal my token? If she wanted to see it more, she could've asked... but Nebula said that she couldn't help it, that she was mentally disturbed or sick or something. Audra never seemed wrong. But I guess that was the point; innocence hides the culprit. I don't want to know how she died, or who killed her, or anything. I want to erase her entire being from my mind, but it's too late. She's imprinted herself there in the back of my skull.

The anthem begins, breaking through the hallow halls. I swallow the lump in my throat and look to the ceiling, the cold cement now turning into a buzz of colours and light.

And then her face appears, staring down at me. Audra, eyes bright and face cheerful. She looks happy, but meek. She was always like that, less the happy, though. I feel her gaze burn through my skull accusingly. I left her, but she stole from me. Who is in the right and who is in the wrong?

Her face morphs into Rhett Emery from District Six, black hair taking away the gold. I don't remember his death; it must've been after I left it all behind. Then, it changes again, into Quinn Tarly from District Seven. She looks as kind as I thought Audra was. But no, I push her image and memories into the deep of my soul. I have to move on. Forget about the girl who broke everything, because she was "ill".

Next is Aubrey Turner from District Ten. Then it turns into Reed Wolfe from District Eleven, and finally into Cypress Flint from District Twelve. I count my fingers, clarifying six.

The room grows dark again, and the flickering lights return. I sink deeper against the wall, staring ahead.

Move on. Move on.

A loud bang from outside makes me jump, banging my head against the wall. I wince, a siren now blaring soon after. It doesn't take a genius to realise that a war is going on outside. Or, at least, the sound effects are to make it like that. It makes me feel on edge with each time. What if the Gamemakers decide to send a bomb into the school? It wouldn't surprise me. And that's why I can't think straight or even move.

I scan the room, which is just ordinary. Desks, a bookcase with a few tattered books, and a chalkboard with something scribbled on. I scrabble along the floor towards the bookcase, lifting off a dusty, leather-bound book. I run my finger along the edges, swiping away the dust.

"The Purge," I read aloud, scanning the first few pages. My eyes widen when I finally reach the line about my ancestor, Cameron. It's a book about the Victor's Purge. I place the book back, grabbing another. "Makeshift explosives." I read again.

Each book has some sort of knowledge. Nothing school related, just things like survival, or even Capitol knowledge. I don't want to read about Cameron, not when it's her ring that Audra stole.

All the feelings begin to surface again. I stand abruptly, shaking myself down. I can't see to rid Audra's name or image from my head. It's like I can still feel her eyes on me.

I'm a gentleman. I shouldn't have abandoned a lady. But, Audra... no, no it's not. It's no excuse. I shake my head, feeling the emotions bubble at the surface. I let out a small cry, stifling it with my fist. I have to get going, get a grip on reality and work things through. I won't be able to live much longer if I dwell. Moving across the room, I drag the wooden desk along the floor, propping it against the door handle. I start to move more and more furniture, ending with the bookcase being over turned. I barricade it alongside the other furniture, leaving the room bare.

I look around, letting out a deep sigh. I head back to my corner, crumpling in the dark. I hit the chalkboard on the way down, causing it to slide.

It catches my attention. I turn around, noticing the faint glow of something from behind the board. A chemistry set, I think. Vials and tubes, wires and a few potions contained. It hits me quickly, as I rush to scramble the items from the hidden compartment.

I lay it all out on the floor. I step over and run and grab the book, the one about explosives. Maybe it was put here on purpose? I hastily scramble through the pages, trying to find something that relates to whatever I've found. I stop on a yellowed page that mentions something about acid and internal combustion. I flick my eyes between the two, realising that the ingredients are similar, if not exact.

I'm... I'm going to make a bomb. The words don't feel real, whether in my head or spilling from my mouth. I swallow down the guilt and emotions, setting the book down and getting to work.

Everyone will fight. I can't be the only one that doesn't. The bombs outside might be fake, but I plan to make a real one.

* * *

**Tierna Rowe, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

"Hey," Sienna whispers. I turn, attempting to smile. It's been hard, what with knowing about Cypress' death and everything. He died, and the last thing I said to him was about how I didn't want his help, because it could make things worse. It seems that it truly did happen. "I'm sorry about your district partner," she frowns. "It must be hard."

I shrug. "I don't really know what to think, if I'm honest."

Sienna was the only one of our group that didn't lose someone. Onatah, however, didn't like Reed that much. I doubt she cares that he died. Me? I don't know. Cypress was like a brother to me, even if I never asked for it. Knowing that he's a cold corpse, it leaves my stomachs in knots.

"I understand," she says softly. She's only being nice because of what happened; Sienna fluctuates a lot. "I'm sure we'll avenge him somehow," she mumbles, as we turn the corner. A large, wooden staircase looms in front, the middle lined in a fancy red carpet. "Are we going up?"

"Yeah," Onatah cuts in coldly. Me and Sienna are completely fine, whereas Onatah's jaw looked crooked... and the purple welt blooming on her chin doesn't look too good either. "Height is the only thing we have to our advantage."

"And numbers," Sienna narrows her eyes. "We're the second largest alliance left."

"And I have the highest score of an outer Career. So we're targets," Onatah reasons. I shrink as the tension grows between them, suffocating anything in sight. I don't want to take sides; I just want them both to get along, at least for the sake of the greater good. We'll never get anywhere if they continue to bicker. "We need a strong defense. Find a classroom, and barricade the hallway. We have enough supplies."

I drift away from the two as they continue to argue. A large board with a map catches my attention, a blue square in particular looking pure. "This says the school has an indoor pool," I mumble in awe. I've never seen a swimming pool before, except sometimes on the Hunger Games recaps. District Twelve has baths, but you can't swim in those. "Hey guys, we have a pool!"

They both turn around. Sienna smiles, but Onatah glares. "That's great," Onatah speaks slowly. "Is it upstairs though?"

"No," I quickly defend. "Apparently, it's on the other side of the school. There are no classrooms near it, though. It could be a good place?"

"And barricade with what? Swimming equipment?" she challenges. "Then we head upwards," she echoes. "We'll check it out later. For now, I want a base." Onatah begins to ascend the stairs. Sienna, disgruntled, follows behind. Leaving the map behind, I run after the pair.

"We should take that map. Break the glass open and steal it." Sienna comments as we reach the top.

I doubt it'll break. I mean, it's probably a trap or something. If we touch the glass or try and smash it, we could die. I'd rather not risk it, not when I want to go far. The hallway is long and narrow, going off both sides like an intersection. Onatah glances down both ways, before walking to the left. You can either see the way her chin is growing swollen. Guilt burns through my body, but I swallow it down.

Me and Sienna follow obediently. Onatah probably knows how to defend herself in all situations. I remember her saying once that she was taught some self-defense skills, because it was required for whatever she done. I didn't poke further - I didn't want to know her dark secrets. I have far too many as it is.

We reach the end of the hallway, a single door. Onatah gives the handle a jiggle, but it's locked. "Check the other doors," she commands, looking around. "Those two."

Further up and opposite each other, there are two doors. Whilst Sienna opens her door, I stand on my tip toes, looking through the panel of glass. Just an ordinary classroom, like all the others. I open the door and step in. On the wall, like downstairs, is another board. This one hasn't got a map though. Curious, I step towards it.

Behind the glass are six pictures, each of the deceased tribute. Their names and final placements are underneath, as well as a brief description has to how they die. My eyes land on Cypress and my stomach twists in disgust. Twenty-second place, and his neck was snapped. It must've been painful. "Hey," I spin around at the voice, and Sienna's face falls. "Just a bit harsh." she echoes my thoughts.

"Hey!" Onatah shouts. I sigh, looking around. "Grab all the furniture. Let's build a wall."

Sienna growls under her breath, before beginning to drag the singular desks out, their metal legs screeching against the floor. A loud crash comes from the other room as Onatah drags out a battered bookcase and stand. One by one, we pile the wood up, the wooden barricade coming to life. We have two rooms for access, too, which provides a lot. I can't help but smile at Onatah's idea. It really was ingenious.

"Now what?" Sienna frowns. "We just sit here and, what, wait it out?"

Onatah nods. "Precisely," she swings our only backpack to the ground, pulling out the supplies. "It's safer and more rational. Camp out, and let the numbers dwindle." she adds, with a conflicted tone. Onatah seems... a little anxious. I don't know, but I can feel something radiate from her, as if nerves or a fear has been spiked.

Sienna grumbles. "That sucks. We can trash school, like most teenagers want," she kicks an apple across the floor, skittering to a stop. "The Gamemakers are going to target us, you know, for being too idle."

She's probably right as well. I still think the swimming pool would be better, but I bite my tongue and allow Onatah to make the rules, and Sienna to argue against them. I don't want this to go wrong. I don't want them to ruin it, but I can't leave, I just can't. I need them... I need them more than they know. I grin, clapping lightly. "We should make the most of the situation! I'm sure the classrooms have interesting stuff. We just gotta look!"

Onatah slumps down, pulling her gladius close. "Good luck, you two."

I grasp Sienna's wrist and lead her into one of the room. I doubt Onatah even knows about the electronic board with the deaths - or, more importantly, Reed - but I guess it's a way to harden herself, for what might come. I'm okay. I know I am. I've seen, heard and faced worse, so this shouldn't be hard.

* * *

**Angora Knight, District Eight Female.**

* * *

I hurry along the hall, tracing the directions in my head. But each time, Quinn's face appears, and I have to force it away.

I spin around the corner, flying down the hallway next to the stairs. Hanging on the ceiling, a sign says_ Library_, and I feel the sense of warmth flood me at the thought of what it contains. It's not even about the books. I know the ceilings will be high, the air muted by the dusty ledgers and thick bookcases. It'll be the perfect place to hide and just... just gather my thoughts, on what I'm going to do next. I can plan more thoroughly with a clearer mind.

The large doors are distinguishable. Compared to smaller doors, these ones stand out, a large metal handle cutting through the middle. I push it open, adrenaline pumping and mixing with nerves.

I'm instantly hit with the smell of dust, mold and mildew. My eyes land on the large, towering bookcases that take up most of the room, a winding path leading through them all. With the books stacked up tight, you can't see into the next aisle. I smile, closing the door quietly. The air is knocked from my lungs and I can finally let the tension go, memories from District Eight running me through.

I sprint straight for the back, zipping through the aisles. I pass the different sections, despite all books looking the same. One in particular catches my eye.

Pulling to a halt, my eyebrows knit as I step down the aisle. The musk is thick in the air, and I take each breath greedily, bathing in the comfort. I slide my fingers over the edges, sliding one off. I skim the pages, until a picture hits me. A fallen tribute? My heart halts. It's a profile, of someone deceased. Their name and picture, a brief description of their life and personality, before ending it on how they died. What really hits me, though, is the amount.

I step back and look around in a mixture of awe and disgust. Thousands of books, lining the shelves, each containing someone that died. Then their names stand out on the binder.

Jayden Perona. Nicholas Amos. Maxim Bauer. Astor Sheen. Chord Wickers. Theon Sykes. Henrietta Jariska. Mera Lachlan...

...Rowen Knight.

My finger freezes on the letters. Is that... a relative of mine? I never knew about her. The name really hits me, but for some reason, I can't bring myself to look. I don't want to know about her. I step back from the shelf, leaving behind whoever she was. Nope. I don't want to know, not now, not ever, not when I could become just another profile in this hall of the dead. The mere idea leaves me unsettled as I walk towards the back, hoping to hide.

The metal plates cover the walls, the lights leaving shadows. It's the perfect place to just blend in and be forgotten. If a tribute - or alliance, which is worse - comes in, I'd be able to slink away and hide. It's a tactic I never thought to use when I was with Quinn...

I haven't even mourned her. Not properly, anyway. I barely knew she was dead, not until I saw her, slumped against the wall. I didn't know what to feel - I guess I don't know still. I felt comfortable and safe with her - but I think the numbness is a sign. I miss her so much, it's left me feeling empty. I swallow thickly, slumping to the ground. I won't let her down. She wouldn't want me to dwell on something I had no control... but she shouldn't have gone in! I told her to just run for it as fast as possible!

I steady my breath and pull the small backpack into my lap. It was on the edge, which means it has nothing important... but I couldn't leave empty handed.

I pour the contents onto the floor, a small dagger being the only thing of value. I hold the weapon steady in hand, before checking on the rope, string, matches, medical bandages and a piece of cloth. I have enough to care for an attack, but do I have the will to fight and make an attack?

It's not something I want to think about. If my plan works, I can just stay in here until I'm physically forced out. That's the best idea.

Another bomb crashes outside, shaking the bookcases. I stand and collect a book, ripping the pages out. I pile them together and ignite a match, dropping it on the mound and watching it spark to life, amber flames swiping at the crisp paper. It brings more light than the actual lights do. I huddle together and slowly pack my belongings, leaving the dagger until last. I look at it longingly, deciding in my mind to keep it out.

Better to be safe than sorry.

Another bomb explodes, wavering the air. I don't like the idea of this. Those metal plates don't even look that stable; one bomb could easily send them flying. I pull my ascot off and use it to tie my hair up, allowing the warmth to take away the cold.

But then I hear footsteps, echoing through the hall. I hold my breath, using my backpack to extinguish the flames. It takes a while, but the shadows come back, smothering the room. I push myself deeper into the darkness, up against the brick wall at the back...

I hear murmurs. More than one person. More than two, even. And then there are three talking, and I can only assume it's the Careers.

"Should we go in here?" a cheery voice seems to squeak. I make sure to hide behind the thick books, sliding my burnt backpack with me.

There's a pause, another mumble, before I hear the answer is no. I let out a heavy sigh, but the figures don't move. I peek through the gap, seeing the shadows through the stained glass windows. Definitely the Careers, now that I can count four or five. My heart hammers against my chest, booming in my ears and vibrating in my throat. I'd be dead within seconds.

Worse of all? The library is the only room down here. It was a barren hallway with the doors at the end. They have nowhere else to look but in here... I'm thankful Quinn isn't here for this...

But then I hear their fleeting footsteps, and through the window, their shadows disappear. I let out a heavy sigh and slump down on the ground, curling into a fetal position.

I won't make it. Not if it carries on to be like this. My chances are lower than I first imagined.

* * *

**Kiara Vaud, District Four Female.**

* * *

"I wanted to go in there," I pout as we walk down the hallway. "There could've been some useful stuff we didn't know about. Like, tricks or secret passages."

Carnelian looks over his shoulder and smiles. "We'll look later. For now, we need to find somewhere to set up camp," he turns back. I can't see his smile no more; Carnelian has a pretty smile though. It's always so confident and kind. "Then we can head on out and search for the other tributes."

"I don't see why we didn't use the Cornucopia room," Caine inputs quietly. He's been rather quiet lately, ever since we left there. My eyebrows knit together as I stare at his hulking back, shoulders defined and strong. "It has all the supplies."

"Which is why the other tributes will head there. And I don't want to get caught in a fight so soon after the bloodbath."

Carnelian is smart. He's not brash, nor stupid. He's clever and precise. I think that makes a good leader. At least, Mr Tripe believed it did, and he was smart too. He's like a big brother to us all... except for Caine, because he's bigger than Carnelian.

We follow down the hall, leaving the library behind. I bet it had all kinds of great books to read.

"Look, there's a map!" I chirp, seeing the board. Everyone redirects themselves towards the object, glass shimmering underneath the flickering light. I squeeze past Calder and Caine - Nelida shrinking off to the side - to get a front row look. Each classroom or room is coloured, a little code at the bottom. "We could head towards the... the..."

Carnelian hums. "The library is a no go, neither that room there," he jabs the room that says hall, with Cornucopia etched roughly underneath. "And I want to avoid the gymnasium. Far too open."

"The swimming pool could be a good room," Caine suggests. "Water and stuff..."

I gasp; I love the water, it's like home. I always swam in the sea when the chance arose, particularly when it rained. Swimming with the droplets hitting the water... it was so peaceful. It was like another world, away from District Four and the theatre. Calder should understand, he mentioned that he was a fisherman and things. We could set up a float and he could show us what he used to do!

Carnelian hums again, lower this time. "With the possibility of drowning," he turns, creases on his forehead clear. I think the pressure is getting to him. I bite my lip, raising my hand slightly. "Yes, Kiara?"

I step forward and drop my finger on the green square. "The ceramics room? It looks really small," I move my finger along the map, falling on the square below. "Or this one, the art room. It's bigger, but there's no doors nearby. It's a safe base, I guess," I say proudly, turning around and giving a thumbs up. "They both seem like good ideas!"

Everyone seems coy, before their small smiles appear. "Great idea," Carnelian claps. "I definitely reckon that art room. The bigger, the better. Okay, so, what's the way?"

Calder seems to fade behind the group, looking around. I frown, brushing a stray piece of hair behind my ear. Then, the idea hits me. "Calder should do it!" I jab my finger in his direction, causing his eyes to widen. "He's a fisherman. They know navigation, and stuff."

Calder steps forward and begins to mutter to himself. Carnelian ushers me over, and I rush with bright eyes. I nod hurriedly, excited. "Well done, you. I just want to thank you for your help." he says proudly.

"Really?" I blush a little, the heat clawing at my skin.

He nods. "Yes. Gotta keep this morale up! If you have ideas, speak them. And you don't need to raise your hand next time. I'm not a teacher... oh, the irony in those words." he grins.

Everyone groups together, and Calder repeats the directions we need to take. Outside, another bomb explodes, rattling the lights above. A haunting whistle breaks through the hallway, causing a chill to rake down my spine. I huddle closer to Calder, lacing my fingers into his hand. I can feel his hesitance, but I grip harder out of nerves and fear.

He leads us down the nearest hallway, apparently towards the art room. I never let go of Calder's hand the entire time, a certain security that I can find in my district partner. Caine's like a bodyguard, and Carnelian's the big brother, and Haven is the bad boy from down the street, but Calder is... Calder is like the best friend. A security blanket. I feel safe around him, even if I feel like he doesn't always want to be smothered by me. Yet, whilst he never grips my hand back, he never shoves it away either.

We round the corner. The lights continue to flicker, though a small bang sends me reeling back, slamming into Caine's chest. He smiles lightly. "It was just a blown bulb," he says lightly. "Nothing to worry about."

"Thanks," I blush. "Calder, are we there yet?"

He hums. "Nearly. It's around here somewhere."

There's some movement, a shuffle of feet. I clench my fingers around Calder's palm as he stops, backing up. Carnelian, as the leader, steps forward, looking around with curious eyes. He nods his head into a certain direction, Caine and Haven quickly following. I blink a few times, my heart hitting against my ribcage hard. I swallow thickly, edging ever so slowly towards Calder's side. It's surprising how scary this actually is. I never remember the productions being this... terrifying.

"One tribute." Caine mimes back towards us.

Carnelian nods again, face tight. "Right, everybody, you know the drill."

* * *

**Run by Snow Patrol.**

* * *

**T****he blog for this story is_ ffyl hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**No Deaths.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**_POV that stood out?_**

**_Tribute you're looking to see die soon? Who do you predict dying relatively soon?_**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**I thought a nice little calm down would be appropriate after the bloodbath. **

**However, don't get too comfortable. I have it planned so that someone dies a chapter, maybe even two. I plan to keep the chaos :o**

**Yeah, so, nothing too important happened here. I hope you all understand the arena more. I placed a few hints and tips for plots and whatnot, as well as setting up the development.**


	10. Ready Aim Fire

**Ready Aim Fire.**

_We don't have a choice to stay. We'd rather die than do it your way._

* * *

**Calder Lachlan, District Four Male.**

* * *

For a few moments, everyone stands still. Carnelian looks at each of us, nodding curtly when we reveal the weapon we have. When he looks at me, though, I know what to do. I tighten my grip on Kiara's hand - feeling the warmth and comfort that I used to get from Mera - and pull her back.

"What, are we going in?" she blinks, like a confused child.

I nod tightly, making sure she's unable to see. "Yeah, it's better if you don't get involved," I say softly. "Let Caine and Carnelian handle it."

Her face falls. I can tell that Kiara feels guilty for maybe not helping out when she could've, but really, it was the better option for her and us. Whoever the unfortunate tribute is, they'll probably be dead within seconds. The mere thoughts twist my stomach in knots. I'm glad that Carnelian hasn't asked me, because frankly, I still debate whether I can actually do it or not. It's... it's surreal, even in thought.

And, like that, Caine grasps the doorknob.

"It's locked," his voice drifts. I look over my shoulder, feeling the nerves rise. "I think they've barricaded it from the other side." he mutters. Carnelian nods, and Caine steps backwards. For a flash, Caine looks nervous, before his hulking body rams straight into the wooden frame.

There's a shout from the other side. Kiara throws herself against my chest, wrapping herself up small.

Caine rams again and again. Soon, the door cracks and splinters, a crash and thump on the other side. I watch as Haven and Carnelian run in after Caine, Nelida hanging back at the doorframe. With her weapon, she's more of a scout and a lookout, rather than upfront fighting. I slowly peel Kiara away from me and place her to the side, like a doll. "Stay here." I say softly once more, leaving her against the wall.

I move swiftly, brushing pass Nelida. "I wouldn't if I was you..." she mutters, but it's too late.

The guys shroud whoever they've caught, wrestling with him. Haven and Carnelian hangs back as Caine grapples with the victim, crashing and banging ringing in the air. A chair is kicked and clatters across the room, whilst someone cracks against the chalkboard at the back.

It happens so fast, like a wrecking ball destroying reality.

The tribute escapes Caine's grasp, revealing himself to be Lyle from District Five. He runs straight into Haven, who attempts to stop him in his tracks, but is easily shoved to the side despite the different body sizes. Carnelian sweeps out his foot, taking Lyle down. He lands at my feet, his breath panicked and weak.

"Calder, now!" Carnelian shouts.

But, I can't move. I'm frozen on the spot, a picture similar to one I've seen before. It all rushes at me. For some reason, it doesn't feel right. He's helpless, isn't he? It isn't fair because of the numbers...

Lyle's face meets mine for a moment, before he's dragged out of the picture, Caine attached to his ankle. Caine hauls him up and slams him against the wall once more, knocking the wind from his lungs. Lyle looks so small, like a child in comparison to the rest of us. Lyle crumples on the floor. I strain my ears for some cannon, but nothing comes.

Carnelian steps back towards me, his eyes dark and clouded. He spares one final look at Lyle on the floor, before he looks away. "Caine, do it."

No matter how Carnelian can feel, it's no use. He's a Career. Our leader, not to mention. He's expected to kill without remorse. We're all expected to kill without remorse, yet it's never... it's never truly right. I don't know whether I feel guilty or sick. I shake away my thoughts, stepping out of the room alongside Carnelian.

There's another fight inside, Lyle obviously kicking back. Carnelian gently closes the door and turns to face Kiara, smiling sadly. "What's up, Kiara? It'll be over soon." he asks politely.

Kiara hums, held against the wall. "Nothing," she smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. It's not a full smile - a Kiara smile. "Is he..."

More thudding. A lot, actually, which is a surprise. My gut twists uncomfortably as something slams into the door, whimpers and pleas cutting through the air like a knife. Then, just as unnerving, the violence stops. Everything falls quiet before a cannon soon resounds in the air. The door opens, Nelida arms her knife, but it's only Haven. He nods his head once and Carnelian slips back through the door, closing it once more. He'll probably raid the room of any supplies or stock, just to bulk us up. It's obvious Lyle is dead. I highly doubt... the words die on my tongue. I take a heavy sigh, switching my glaive into my other hand.

"Who was it?" Nelida asks. I turn, levelling out my eyes. Oh yeah, she doesn't know.

"Lyle from District Five," I echo, the words foreign on my tongue. I didn't know him, yet I'm recalling his death. I doubt I'll forget him now. "Caine dealt with him, I suppose."

Nelida hums. "Seventeen left," she mumbles, running her thumb over the edge of the knife. "It's moving fast."

The door swings open again. Carnelian moves out, smiling slightly. "When the claw has picked him up, we'll go in, think of some sort of plan," he holds his hand out for Kiara, who looks at it. "Come on Kiara," he smiles sweetly. "Everything will be fine."

* * *

**Sian Amser, District Nine Female.**

* * *

The ceiling soon glows, the anthem cutting the comfortable silence.

"Does this mean that the day is over, or?" Jem mumbles with a frown.

It's true; you can't tell which day it is, so how do we know how long we've been in here? It only feels like a few hours. Maybe they just update, to keep us informed as much as possible. I sigh, taking a handful of dried berries, which I scoff down greedily. The only face to light up is Lyle, his sweet face still for a few moments, before fading back into darkness.

My mood instantly sinks, and I bring my knees to my chest. I knew Lyle... at least, I spoke to him...

"What's up?" Jem asks, but then he sighs, realising. "This was the guy you spoke to, right? The one you wanted to join our alliance?"

I nod meekly. "Him and his district partner, Audra. It was just them two. I was... I was going to see if they needed some help," I smile softly. "She was timid, and he was sweet. He kept calling me miss and that." I laugh lightly, the fond memories so clear. He was a good guy; he didn't deserve to be cut down so early.

"I'm sorry," he continues to frown. "I mean, I had the same feeling about Sienna, but she's a tough cookie. Like the nut kind. So maybe she's a little nutty too, but she can handle herself," he adds with a smile, before nudging me. "Cheer up, okay? We still have each other."

"Yeah," I nod hastily. "I'm so- no, no I'm not going to rise to your taunts!"

He bursts into laughing, echoing through the large room. His sound practically bounces off of each wall, before coming back with extra force. It's nice to just hear it sometimes. It allows me to forget about the rest of what might happen. To think about now, not the future. "You're so easily led astray," he teases. "I'm not always going to poke fun at you."

"You sound like Torri. She soon changed," I smirk, his eyes lit up. "Oh, sorry. Torri is my best friend."

"Sounds like Amaran to me," he chirps. "Best friends are awesome, right?"

I smile fondly. "I've known Torri ever since we were little. We lived down the same street as each other," I soon remember the woven bracelet I have protected in my pocket; a friendship bracelet, something she carefully crafted for me, to repay for all the things I did for her, mainly twisting the arm of my employee to get her a job. "She's the only person to really know me."

"Hey," Jem places his hand on my shoulder, encouraging me away from the emotions. They're nice to bathe in for a while, but they'll easily consume me. Torri is just another reason why I have to go home. "It'll be okay. I'm sure Torri still likes you in spite of all your little quirks, particularly your apologetic nature." he teases once more, causing me to laugh.

It's true: despite everything, Torri has stuck around. I'm surprised I've coped so well, and, I guess, Torri has benefitted as well. Being as poor as me and my family, she was just as desperate and needy for extra shifts down in the plantations. I got her in, just because I knew she really needed it. It was nice to see her look a little better fed, alongside her little sisters.

"I don't know how Amaran deals with you," I poke. "You're insufferable sometimes," I realise the words instantly. His smile falls as my eyes widen, the realisation hitting me. "I'm so, so sorry. I-I didn't m-mean to touch a nerve or anything... oh, I'm so sorry." I frown.

"I didn't have much besides her," he sounds sad. "Amaran and Nico. That's it, they were basically my family."

Again, I don't want to pry. Jem would tell me if he felt comfortable - it was one of the many things that made people like me in the end. I listened, rather than poke for the gossip. "I'm still super sorry..."

"Don't be," he smiles, more kindly than I imagined. Here I was thinking that I upset him. "You shouldn't be sorry. Some people would take advantage of it," he reminds me, which I know about as well. Torri warned me about that. "You're too cool for your own good." he adds with a smile.

I don't even think. I throw myself across the gap, wrapping my arms around his neck. It's only a brief hug, but the moment is tender enough for me to let go, tears welling in my eyes.

"What was that for?" he asks, an unsure smile twisting on his face.

"I... I don't know," I admit. I've never been one to just... do those kind of things, but Jem isn't just anybody. "I just thought it seemed appropriate. Sor-"

"No, it was... it was sweet of you," he laughs shakily. "I just didn't expect it, is all. And I accept your apology. Like I always do."

That's when I notice the large board - placed over the mantle of the fireplace - has lit up, showing the recent death of Lyle. His name, picture and details join the fellow deceased. I let out another sigh and curl deeper into the tatty blankets we managed to find in a nearby cupboard. Jem leans back, pulling forth an apple to bite. "We can't stay here forever," I admit. "I know you said I might have to carry your positivity an all... but they'll chase us out of here eventually."

He swallows the apple. "For now, though, we can rest. The Hunger Games have only just begun. I'm sure they won't kill us for resting up for a few hours," he smiles, turning towards me. "Relax. Eat an apple or some berries. We'll worry about all that after you've had a rest. I'll take first shift." he moves his flail closer towards him, keeping it at his side.

I close my eyes, not even realising how heavy my eyelids actually were. He's right; we have all the time in the world.

Until more faces join that board. Then... then time will be cut.

* * *

**Temperance Clarion, District One Female.**

* * *

I stare ahead as Corin plucks at his shirt desperately, prying the blood from sticking to his skin. I think it shows the sign of a warrior. Corin says that it's sticky and gross.

"It hurts," he whimpers, even though we both know it's simply a flesh wound. "Like, really hurts."

As we enter the gymnasium at my own request, I hear a small ding. Both Corin and I look up, the white parachute drifting down towards us. A smile creeps on my face; I wonder who it's for? It falls down at our feet, and for a split second, we both just stare. "You may open it," I suggest. "I'm pretty sure it's more than likely for you than me."

Corin bends over, hissing the entire time as he brings it to his hand. He clicks the canister open, revealing the white note and small vial of clear liquid. Whatever it is, it's expensive. "It's you," he says lowly, like it's disappointed. "Here." he hands me the small note, a simple sentence scribbled down.

_Keep him quiet with this. It absorbs blood from material -A._

Who knew Aphrodite would be out to help me. I always assumed that Carnelian was her pet project. "It's for your shirt," I mumble. "Takes away the blood."

His eyes light up. "Perfect. I was hating this feeling. It's like, I'm not wet, but not clean either," he pours the contents over his shirt, and instantly, the blood fizzles away into nothing. A smile breaks out on his face. "Okay, not that I'm ready, what do you want to do?"

I flutter my eyes. "Bandage that wound up."

Corin peels back his shirt to reveal the wound, the skin jagged and torn. I tie up the cloth around and around, making a brace of sorts. I know all about medical equipment: I bandage myself up all the time, after practice and work. He throws his shirt back on, smiling. "Feels like I wasn't stabbed at all."

"But you were stabbed. A few more centimetres downwards and it would've ruptured a lung. You would be drowning in your own bodily fluids within minutes," I lower my voice. "You were lucky, at best," I turn around, seeing the closet at the back of the large room. It's probably where they store the equipment and projectiles. "You need to learn that the body is fragile. A layer of skin can easily be peeled back."

"...what?"

"Punishment," I point. "You need to face your weakness," I turn back towards him, his face now a hue of white and fear. "Facing your fear will allow you to grow. Growth is vital for someone whose aim is to survive, rather than fall."

I cross the room, passing the makeshift climbing wall and gym equipment, sucked into the wall. A shiny lever hangs on the end, which you must pull to get it out. Most people would put Corin through his tests, make him run an assault course of some kind. But he's not scared of that. What could he be scared of? A cruel smile plays on my lips, and I wag my finger for him to follow.

"I don't know why I need punishment. It was an accident." he shoots defensively.

I snigger. "An accident," I count on one finger. "You were stabbed accidentally. You called me away from killing Nelida. You almost got bested by the lowly peasant from District Ten. You allowed the boy to escape."

By now, four fingers stand tall. Four mistakes that Corin made. He wanted to ally up - he doesn't realise the lengths I will go for a perfect ally. And, Corin is not... not yet, anyway. "You... you want me to run this course? With my bad shoulder?" he jabs his fingers angrily at the wound. "It kills. You don't understand the pain."

"I wouldn't understand. I wasn't the one that allowed my opponent to attack me," I say slowly, keeping the hair in front of my eyes. "And I didn't get my poison, which has really upset me." I play on a sad voice now, just to keep things different. Corin will slowly feel the guilt twisting inside of him.

It takes a few moments before Corin's hand falls on my shoulder. "For you, I suppose I'll do it. Not that I'm looking forward to it or anything... but if it makes a pretty girl like you smile."

I push back the stray hairs. "I don't want you to run the course," I step backwards. "I want you to check the cupboard, and tell me if you see a javelin. I want you to try a target practise."

His eyes instantly snap into confusion. But, he shrugs, stepping past me and opening the door. A smile breaks on my face and I barge into his back, throwing my ally into the cupboard. I swiftly grab the doorknob and slam it shut, twisting the key. Something clatters and falls from inside, before a fist is pounding against the door. "Temperance! Temperance! The... the, um, the door it er..."

"You're in a time-out of sorts," I explain. "As punishment. You can sit in there until I see fit that you may leave."

There's a tense pause, before he angrily kicks the door. "Are you insane? All because I got injured? I was the one that got stabbed, not you! I'm not a little child!"

His words soon turn into heavy breathing. The pounding becomes weak, until his fist simply falls from the wooden door. His heavy breathing doesn't stop, a small whimper breaking through every now and then. A spike of power burns through my veins. So, Corin is scared of the dark... I twist the key, and throw open the door. "You're free," I say to his curled up form, hidden among the mass of gym equipment. He looks up, eyes wild and dilated. For the first time since knowing him, Corin looks... scared. Like a little child. The opposite of what I was aiming to achieve. "Were you crying?"

He stands up hastily, glowering. "...no," he answers shortly. "I just don't like being suffocated by an ally, thank you very much."

"You'll learn to focus next time then," I reply. "Wrath will happen at some point. We will head into battle. If you're not prepared, then you'll be left behind alongside the rest of the mother hens and small children."

He shakes down his clothes, shirt not fully done up, bowtie crooked. "...okay."

"We need to get you your first kill," I decide. "It'll man you up some more. Grab a javelin and some mats. You're aiming to kill next time, not just defend."

"Wha-"

"We're going hunting." I smile sweetly.

* * *

**Sienna Mayfleet, District Three Female.**

* * *

"You need some ointment for that," Tierna breaks the silence politely. "Your jaw is starting to look really bad... it's bruising all over."

Onatah looks up. "I'm fine," she answers coldly. "...it was worth it."

We both know that Onatah's damaged jaw is due to her run in with the Cornucopia. The sight - in my mind, at least - makes me want to snigger. Almighty Onatah, brought down to our level. She might be the one to beat compared to the Careers, but she's just another tribute, another person, another ally.

In fact, I'm surprised that she can speak so well. It looks so painful. If it was me, I'd cry. Onatah is obviously stronger... which is not something I can say proudly. Don't get me wrong; it improves our chances as an alliance, and it does paint a huge target on our backs, but for the even ground for us all, it's bad. It means that if pushed down to the final tributes, Onatah will have an advantage.

"Sienna," Onatah commands. I look up, unable to hold my scowl. What is she even doing her? She could leave. She doesn't care about me, nor Tierna. There's nothing tying her down and yet she stays, brooding on the sidelines. "Can you check down the hallway? Need to keep a constant lookout."

"Yes, your majesty," I sneer, standing up. Tierna goes rigid in the middle of us, which makes me feel bad. She's nice; too nice to be around Onatah, at least. I shake away the thoughts and look over the wooden pyramid we've created, the empty, haunting hall stretching out for what seems like miles. With the lights constantly flickering, it's something only the most morbid of people could come up with. In fact, I think I played a game similar to this. It had zombies though. That was creepy. "It's empty," I say as I turn around. "Not a single soul."

"Good," she mumbles. "It's better for us."

"The pool would've been just as good," I state my opinion. "At least we would have more room to move about, rather than looking like caged chickens."

Onatah stares. "Nothing is stopping you from leaving, Sienna," she answers. "I'm just suggesting that this is better for all of us. It'll bring better outcomes than being near water."

Tierna shrinks again, like she's trying to blend in with the wall. I place my hands up, sitting back down. "Look, I'm not trying to argue, even if I prefer Tierna to you," I make sure to add, just to be spiteful. It's always the banter between enemies that make boss battles fun. "But I think we should vote on it. Who elected you as mayor of the girl group?"

"Tierna?" Onatah snaps her glare, though when it hits her, you can see it softening. Maybe Onatah does care about the girl. "Would you like to vote?"

"Sure," she replies, unsure. "I just... I don't want us to argue. It's not good chemistry."

"Okay then," Onatah concedes. "Vote. Raise your hand if you want to stay here, where it's safe," Onatah raises her hand, whilst I keep mine down. Tierna bites her lip, but doesn't join her. "And raise your hand for the pool."

Like that, we both shoot our hands up enthusiastically, though Tierna instantly seems to regret it. I look at Onatah, and smile. "I think we should go down to the pool then."

"You can move the barricade away then," she says calmly, though it's an unnerving calm. "I'm going to gather up our stuff."

"Wait. So you give up, just like that?" I say as Onatah stands. I don't believe it. Something inside of my gut twists and turns, leaving me unsettled. This is like the calm before the storm, or the reveal of a major plot twist.

She turns around, the light giving her bruise an evil glow. "Believe it or not, Sienna, I'm not out to make your lives miserable. If you want to go, we'll go. I'm only looking for our best interests."

She quickly disappears into one of the rooms, where we stored our supplies and extra knives. I turn and smile at Tierna, encouraging a sweet smile in return. "See? You can just ask for what you want. She's horrid, but not a robot."

"It's not that. I just... I don't want tension all the time. I want us to be okay, whilst things are okay, you know?" she sighs. "It's pretty jarring with you guys at each other's throats all the time. Just like you calling her horrid. It's... it's just mean."

Her words instantly make me feel guilty. I don't like it. I stand up and begin to busy myself with the wall, pulling away chairs and the fallen bookcase. After a few, Tierna joins me, keeping quiet. I don't hate her for what she said, because it's true. We are at each other's throats all the time. But that's only because Onatah struck a nerve in me, acting like she's better than us. Maybe I'm being stupid by holding the grudge. But I don't care. Onatah offended me and never apologised. She treats us like peasants, and claims she only wants the best for us.

With her, it's always woe-is-me.

When the final chairs is removed, and the hallway is open, Onatah returns. "You can lead us there, Sienna, since you know all and see all." she speaks quietly, like a croaky mumble.

I have to hide my scowl; yeah, of course you'd want me to do that and make a fool of myself. She's like the pseudo-antagonist, with the Capitol being the main one. I march down the hall, Tierna close behind and Onatah trailing up front.

I can lead us just as good as Onatah did. Probably even better. At least I'll consider Tierna's feelings, rather than being self-centred all the time.

* * *

**Ash Terrick, District Seven Male.**

* * *

Venice simply stares forward each time I talk to her. It's nothing new, I mean, Venice often ignored me until I pestered enough. But this time it's different. This time... it's like a piece of Venice has died.

"You can talk to me," I encourage her, from across the room. "I lost Quinn. I could... relate?"

Venice looks up, a sad smile peeling on her face shortly. "I doubt you'd understand."

"I could try? I mean, I won't know unless you say," I edge forward, keeping a smile on my face. I was always told that being kind was a two-way thing, and that you should treat a person how you want to be treated yourself. "I want to help you, Venice."

Her eyes grow watery for a brief moment, until she angrily scrubs them away with her fist. "I'm fine," she stands abruptly, sniffing the whole time. "We need to move, like you said. Someone has already died since the bloodbath."

I frown; it's not the response I wanted, but at least her moving is something. She couldn't just sit there for the entire Hunger Games. She'd be too easily of a target. Venice hastily grabs her backpack and knife, before staring me straight down. My eyebrows rise as it hits me, and I quickly bundle the items into my open arms. All set, Venice heads for the door, knocking away the chair that we propped up, just in case of an emergency.

She cranes her neck out of the door, before silently slipping out. I follow, nerves building up in my chest. It was nervous and frantic trying to find this place, and now we need somewhere new.

Venice heads down a hallway, fleeting past the staircase. Why not up? I don't say anything, though, just because Venice is a little... all over the place, at the moment, and I don't want to piss her off, or unintentionally set a trigger. She's a closed book; I have no idea what could send her spiralling downwards.

"Venice, where are we going?" I whisper harshly, the girl moving further and further away from me.

She halts, turning. "Sorry. Um, I don't know, but not out here. Just follow me."

We pass a map as we continue to jog quietly, our feet falling in time with each other. From the brief look at it, the entire room is large, spanning over two floors and countless hallways and classrooms. It has a few larger squares, but something about them seem... funny. They'd be a lot open. I think Venice knows, too, because she stops in front of every classroom.

"What are we even looking for?" I frown.

There's a pause as she tries and thinks. She turns, shrugging. "I... I don't know..."

Tears brim at her eyes again, which she swipes away with her finger. "Do you want me to find somewhere?" I offer. "You won't talk to me, so at least let me lead? It's a man's duty, after all, to lead in a dance."

"We're not exactly dancing for our lives, Ash," she whispers, a small smile on her lips. "But... only if you want to."

I grasp her hand, pulling her along. If I remember, there was an awesomely coloured purple square, that said something about medic room or something. It'd be a great start, seeing as they might have all the equipment we might ever need. It was... down a hall or two or something. I can't remember. I recall the steps in my head, Venice keeping in time with my moving feet.

As I turn the corner, a bright sign says _Nurse's Office_, proving my point. A smile breaks out on my face as I pull her along, popping open the door with my other four fingers.

The strong smell of disinfectant hits me, a brief memory playing in my head of when I went to the hospital in District Seven, when I lost my finger in the cutting accident. A saw cut it clean from my hand. Stupid tree, I told them it was too large and firm to be cut with a flimsy saw. Of course they ignored me.

I hear Venice gasp as I twirl her into the room. "See? Let me lead, and I'll take us places." I smile.

The glass cabinets are clinging to the wall barely, the constant bombs no doubt shaking them from their brackets. Venice turns, smiling shortly. "I'm not... I'm not good with saying thank you."

"I'll take it as it is." I wave it away. Again, a closed book, and not one that should be read too loosely. But I like Venice because there's something about her that I admire, something I can't quite point out.

The siren wails again, smothering the silence. Slivers of red light peek through, but it's not so bad. Even when the bomb happens and the glass doors rattle, I realise that I'm slowly growing accustomed to what the arena has done. Venice opens up a cupboard, and pulls out a mass of cloth. "We're taking these," she says, stuffing them into her backpack. "We have to keep moving."

I frown. "I thought... I thought you wanted to stay in one place?"

She turns around, her face almost identical to that of a small child. Venice shrugs, looking away. "...I don't know what's for the best." she looks away, stuffing more and more into the open bag.

"Venice..." I mumble, but she ignores me. "Venice?" she still doesn't respond, her movements becoming more frantic and jerky, piling the entire collection into her backpack. "Venice!"

I grasp her wrist and spin her around. Her eyes quickly grow cold. "What?" she shouts back, and then her eyes change again, back into the sweetness. She hides her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry..." she mumbles.

I blink a few times. "You're not okay. Tell me, Venice."

She hurriedly shakes her head. "It's nothing. Just... just rest or something."

And, then, she busies herself with stocking up on supplies. Something inside of me sinks - failure? - and I sigh, realising that Venice will never open up to me. She probably doesn't even trust me enough. I turn around and pull open some cabinets, following her orders. I barely skim over the crumpled white paper note, deciding that it's not important.

What's important is opening Venice up.

* * *

**Caine Pravda, District Two Male.**

* * *

Another one. Another one at my hands.

I look at my fingers, my palms, expecting to see some sort of change. But they look the same. They look like the hands of someone who could be a miner within District Two, or even a quarry keeper. Rough and calloused. No-one would know that they've killed, that they've taken away someone's pulse. Well, apart from the people who are watching right now. My own family, who knew that this was the life for me... was expected of me.

"You could've cleaned the blood away," Haven comments as the gang begins to pour in. Moments ago, Lyle was laying on the floor, pooling out. His eyes were lifeless and accusing, reminding me of what I done. I even took his ally, his district partner... I shake my head. Blood is etched onto the walls and floor, streaks and lines of crimson... his blood forever left here. "Hey, what's up big man?" he asks.

"Nothing," I glower. "Why would anything be up?"

Haven raises his hands defensively. "Sorry... I guess he did put up a fight. I know he cut me," he shows me the cut on his arm, ripping open his sleeve. "Kinda deserved it after that."

I nod, though I don't fully agree. We pounced on him more than anything. He didn't stand a chance; but he went down fighting, nonetheless. The room - our battlefield - is proof. The chalkboard is dented, chairs thrown across the room, some even broken. The only thing to have not been damaged was his chemistry set, organised and placed in the corner. I doubt he had anything to do with it. It's probably been set up to encourage someone to take advantage of it.

Carnelian, Calder, Nelida and Kiara bring out the rear, Calder gently closing the door. It's a large room, though most of the furniture is now broken.

The light flickers as Kiara sits down, bringing her knees up to her chest. In a split moment, her cheeriness has subsided. She's no longer a ray of sunshine. She would've been put out sooner or later anyway.

Carnelian whistles. "I see he didn't go down too easily."

"I didn't expect him to. He was the same age as us, after all, and weaponless." I make sure to note. He had nothing; we had everything.

Carnelian nods slowly, drinking in the situation. "I'm glad. It wouldn't have been right to just... give up." he takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders.

It's hitting him too. Even now, a couple hours in, and the crinkles are beginning to show in the corner of his eyes. I bet he's regretting my offer of leader already.

"Are you okay?" I ask. I care for Carnelian, surprisingly. Despite his constant orders of telling me to kill people for him, I don't blame him. He doesn't know how much I hate what I am, what I've always been. "You look a little... under the weather."

His curled lips flip into a smile. "Yeah I'm fine! Are you?"

I nod. "Yeah... you're not worried about Temperance, are you?" I ask, and instantly, his smile falters. "I wouldn't worry about her. She's more bark than bite. I've seen her type too many times."

But he simply shakes his head. "No, I'm fine, not worried about a thing!" he brushes it off, slapping a hand on my shoulder. "I hope you're okay, man. You're doing really well."

He's probably treading carefully over the kills. The fact remains that Calder nor Kiara have one. Carnelian, Nelida and Haven have a single death to their name. Me? Three... Reed, Audra, and now Lyle. Three hearts that have stopped beating, all because of my hands. It's not something you can just brush over... it swallows you, and you can't stop it because, deep down, you feel like you deserve it. I feel like I do, I feel like I shouldn't have a heart. I probably don't. More machine than man.

They wouldn't understand. None of them were born and bred for this. Since I could walk, I could run. Since I could talk, I could fight. It's all I know.

"Thanks," I smile slightly. "Kiara looks shocked though."

Carnelian spins to take a single look at her, before turning back. "I think she's a little down... I'm sure she'll perk up soon."

Over his shoulder, I see Calder slide down next to her. Swiftly, Kiara leaps for his lap, burying against him larger boy. She didn't see anything though. It was just me with Haven on the back, in case I failed, which, of course, I didn't. After a while, everything settles. Carnelian budges a chair under the doorknob to secure it, whilst the rest of us rest. Nelida keeps her distance, Carnelian sits on the other side of Kiara and begins to talk quietly, in an attempt to cool her down, whilst Haven paces around the room, prodding things. I scoop up a chair and fall into the seat, feeling heavy and weighed down.

"I think he created this chemistry set," Haven comments, looking over the small set-up table. "It's on, too. You can hear it bubbling faintly," I look towards him, the vial a dull purple colour. He's right; there's a faint buzz in the air, only disappearing when a bomb sounds from outside. "Do you think it's dangerous?"

"Haven, don't touch it." Carnelian warns with a low voice.

"Okay," he raises his hand. "Just be nosy."

There's another sound as well. It's quiet, mixing in the air with the buzz. It sounds just like the bloodbath countdown... my heart stills. Panic rises in my throat, blocking me from air. I'm suddenly like a fish out of water, throwing myself out of the chair, the wooden furniture slamming against the wall. It sets everyone else on alert, Carnelian rising to his feet hastily.

I barely see the red numbers, strapped to the underside of the table, before I shout. Carnelian, too, catches on and yells two words that would rock anyone to the core.

"Take cover!"

I throw myself to the ground, forgetting about Haven or the girls. I only think of myself and my own harm.

The last image I see is of Haven, the reality hitting him, his mouth falling open... and, like that, the explosion blasts through the air. The noise is deafening, the shatter of glass and wood blowing my eardrums. My heart pulsates in my throat as I throw my arms over my head, the aching thud in my skull becoming more prominent. There's a disgusting squish sound, like food exploding in a microwave or something.

It feels like it lasts forever. Just as the haunting silence returns, it's toppled over by the sound of a cannon, stilling my own thoughts and emotions.

I lay on the ground for a few moments, the sound of the explosion repeating over and over again in my mind, rattling around in my skull. My back stings, and when I awkwardly try and touch it, I can feel the scattered shards of glass pierced into me. I roll over, biting down on my tongue to hold the hiss.

There, in front of us, is what used to be Haven. His body burned and broken, twisted in an abnormal fashion, hand... hand outstretched towards me.

When the dust settles, I stand up, repulsed by the sight. Haven... I can't even look at him anymore. I turn away, seeing Calder protecting Kiara, and Nelida hid behind the overturned bookcase. Carnelian looks horrified when he also sees Haven dead on the floor. For a moment, everyone is silent, Kiara letting out a small cry that's quickly swallowed.

"O-Okay," Carnelian stutters. "W-We're leaving... now," he turns to me, eyes even more weathered than before. "C-Caine?"

I nod, swallowing down everything that surfaces. "Agreed."

We can only but move on.

* * *

**Ready Aim Fire by Imagine Dragons.**

* * *

**T****he blog for this story is_ ffyl hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**Lyle Flinch, District Five.**

**Haven Hemlock, District Ten.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**arkanians, I loved Lyle's little connection to Cameron even if people thought it was gimmicky. It brought about a wholesome character. I didn't want to drag his character through the mud.**

**luvkatsuki, Haven was a good character, but I struggled to fully capture him.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**_POV that stood out?_**

**_Favourite alliance, and why?_**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**At the moment, chapters are light on everything. I don't want to overwhelm things too early. Everything will get considerably worse as time moves on... like next chapter? Oooooooooooo...**

**Also, Ash found a note... why are the tributes getting notes? :o**

**Yeah. As a reminder, please remember that tributes will develop naturally. If I force each one this early, you'll grow bored and then what will I have to work on? They'll grow as time goes on.**


	11. Castle Of Glass

**Castle Of Glass.**

_Wash the sorrow from off my skin. And show me how to be whole again._

* * *

**Carnelian Ritter, District One Male.**

* * *

Everyone files out of the small room, grief smothering the once happy atmosphere.

How can I be positive about this? It feels so wrong to try and cheer people up when Haven was burned to a crisp before our very eyes. Yet, I can't let it consume us. It's my duty as leader to make sure that everyone is able and fit, in case of an attack or preparation. Everyone is expecting it of me.

As we stop in the hallway, they all look lost, Kiara's eyes for starters finding me. She's expecting me to help too. They all are, because that's what I have to do. And I will try my hardest...

"Art room, like Kiara suggested," I answer in a clipped tone. The whole scenario feels... bitter. If I was smarter, or quicker, I could've seen it coming from a mile off. But I was lousy. I was too clouded to notice the tick in the air, or even take a bigger notice of the chemistry set. "Come on." I place my hand on Kiara's shoulder, guiding the remnants of our team alone.

Calder steps ahead to remember the directions. I wouldn't blame him if the bomb literally knocked it out of his mind.

The noise still echoes in my ear. The moment it was clear, I just ducked. My stomach boils, sickness rising. I didn't think to save Kiara nor Nelida, I just thought of myself. It makes me feel sick, and weighs my shoulders down. The leader who didn't think of his team? It's irony at its best. Calder, despite all hesitation, went for Kiara. He didn't think, he just acted.

I need to be more like that. Forget the consequences, or the perfections, and just do it. Act now, think later. It's always been one time I sucked at.

"Here," Calder motions towards a funny set of doors that only cover the middle section. "This is the art room."

Kiara perks up a little. "I can still smell the paint." she mumbles against my side.

Calder leads us in, and I follow for once. It's nice to know that, if I step down, Calder or Caine will gladly take over. It releases the pressure a little.

The room is huge, much like the bloodbath area. But the ominous gust of wind reminds me of the place we're in, and that everything is not what it seems. Paintings line the walls, sloppily thrown together. A few hang by one corner, the bombs shaking them loose. It's not the layout that bugs me, it's the actual paintings. A chill runs up my spine as I focus in on a particular one, a fierce boy shooting arrows... Fedora Clos. I recognise the short stature from anywhere. At Kingston Academy, we're trained to remember the fallen, and learn from their mistakes. I, of course, went above and beyond, to make sure I could be as perfect as I could.

The next one is of a little boy, strung up by his wrists and ankles, hanging over the mouth of the Cornucopia as rats snap towards him. Another contains Kit Felix, leaning over an opponent, his eye cut open and bruises on his skin.

"These... these are unpleasant." Nelida says, stepping near me. I'm surprised she can even stand to be so close to me.

"Calder, what's wrong?" I turn around, Calder frozen in front of a painting. I can just quite about see a girl cut in half, the rest masked by Calder's broad shoulders. Kiara tugs at his arms, but he doesn't budge.

I sigh. "These must be the deceased in art form," I mumble bitterly. "What a way to make them legends."

I step away from the sight, slightly repulsed. It's one thing to honor the death; it's another to glorify it. I already know the names and methods of death for every District One tribute in the last two decades, I don't need to see the illustrations of them. Caine hangs in the corner of the room, looking aimlessly at the setting. I cross the room quickly, my mind a blur. Caine killed... and there's no denying the fact that Caine could've helped Haven, being so close to him and all...

"Hey," I say shyly, the hulking man noticing me. "Are you okay?"

"I don't need a leader pep speech, Carnelian." he mutters.

I chew my bottom lip. "Then how about a friend speech instead?"

"We're allies, not friends," he reminds me, eyes glossed over from fresh tears he hasn't quite spilled. "And I'm fine. Just a bit shocked from the explosion, is all." he answers, tucking into himself.

"You can talk to me about anything," I quickly input. He looks up, obviously frowning. "We might be allies, and we might not be friends. But the fact is that bottling things up isn't good. And, well, I've been told my advice is great," I smile. "So please, don't shut me out. It'll be better for you, me, and the team."

Something inside of me stirs. None of us are exactly friends, but we're comrades, chosen to stay and work together. I may not want a weak link, but the fact is Caine is hurting over something, and I hate to see someone so strong and tough, look so weak. Damn, I should've said that to him.

But, Caine unleashes his crossed arms, showing me his hand. "What do you see?" he says, flipping me his palm.

I see a calloused hand, covered in burns and little scars, and a whole life of distinctive training etched within his skin. "What am I looking for?" I ask.

"Guilt. Sadness. A monster," he grows quiet, recoiling his hand like he's been burned. "It's what I feel like. What I have to bottle up, in order to keep going," he admits, and something inside of me can relate to that. I always have to overachieve in order to feel like I have a purpose in this rotten world. "What I can't so openly discuss," he stands straighter, swallowing thick. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone."

"Of course," I answer quietly. There's not much else I can say... my training or purpose obviously wasn't as bad as Caine's. And, being in here a day or two now, Caine's kill list is already at three. I can see why his conscience is slipping through. "Just... don't forget, okay?"

"I won't." he nods curtly, walking away from me.

I lean back against an open easel, admiring my allies. We might all have different lives, and different personalities, but we work well together. It's not even my leadership; it's them, it's the team. Kiara is latched onto Calder's elbow, whilst Caine observes the perimeter, probably to ensure no-one arrives. Kiara soon lets Calder go, skipping over.

"What's up with him?" I ask gently, knowing that Kiara is a little... fragile, at the moment.

"Sad," she answers quietly. "A picture made him upset. I don't know why, though... should I ask?" her eyes light up.

I shake my head, laughing lightly. "He'll tell us when he's ready," I reply knowingly, Caine lingering over her shoulder. "Just be there, in case he needs you."

She places her hand to her forehead, and salutes me. "Got it, boss." she chirps softly, jogging back towards him.

Because the further we last, the harder we'll fall. I slump a little, letting the pressure drag me down for a slight moment, just for a rest.

* * *

**Angora Knight, District Eight Female.**

* * *

I thumb back the pages, filling my mind with the glorious words. It's so wrong; something so spectacular shouldn't be here.

The scene sets perfectly in my mind. The princess and the prince, dancing on the ballroom floor, soft lights and the glitter of a chandelier raining down on them. They don't notice the people around them. They're so consumed in themselves, that they don't need anyone else.

It's so... magical, so unrealistic, that nothing could be similar. Reality that Panem and the great thirteen, well, twelve districts couldn't provide. I close the book gently and place it back on the shelf, just as another rumble happens outside.

I wonder if we can go outside? If this is a school, then there'd be a courtyard, maybe even a playground. Most of my summers were spent on the swing in my backyard, a book concealed in my arms. It was secluded enough to not be known. After all, District Eight has clamped down in recent years after Pippin's year, with patrols more often.

One time, they almost caught me. I would've been whipped within an inch of my life. Pippin done that. Pippin, encouraged by Darek. I don't know why, but my mother blamed them. My grandfather said that corruption was already a seed within Eight's soils, and that the Victors are simply gardeners.

Even so, I agree with them. Although I'm basically a sacrifice to their future goals.

I swallow down the emotions, standing up. I need to keep busy until the numbers dwindle. I don't trust myself enough to just stand around.

I scan the room. From sights, the thousand or so books were believed to be deceased profiles, obituaries of sorts. But no. Like a library, it's organised, with shelves containing different things.

From my mind keeps wandering to that Rowen girl. Was she my relative? Something inside of my gut tells me so. I flex my fingers, my mind running a mile. Just a few words. Just a sentence or two, to find out how she died. Or how she lived. Or even if she ever got remembered.

I move without thought. Like I'm being led, I find myself down the same aisle, the book just in front of me. I run my finger down the leather binder, popping it out of its place.

Everything tells me to stop. My gut twists uncomfortably as I flick the first page open, the name and picture standing out. But it's not that I see first. It's the eye - one is a shiny brown, whilst the other is clouded. She was... half blind? I twist my mouth into a frown, and carry on to read.

She was killed by fire. Lots and lots of fire. Apparently, it devoured her flesh whilst... I swallow down the rising bile, blinking back the sickness. She was burned alive. It says she saved her allies, and sacrified herself instead.

"Enough," I whisper, slamming it closed. I shake my head, Quinn's round face appearing briefly. We were close - as close as allies could be - but I can't say whether I'd sacrifice myself for her... nor would she do the same for me. Rowen Knight was simply selfless, as it seems. As I put the book back, the crisp corner of a note seems to call for my attention. I blink a few times; is that for me? I slide my fingers over and pry it free from the next book. "What's this?" I say aloud, as I pull it open.

The words make my eyes widen. And when something hits my book, a scream erupts from my throat. I look down, terrified, at the small canister. A sponsor? It feels... suspicious. My hands shake as I crumple the note, detailed words of my death trashed away. I bend over, scooping the canister up. I pop it open, surprised to see a small dagger.

Another note falls. I catch it mid-air, scanning the words. Something just... twists in my stomach, telling me that it isn't going to be good. Not when I've been sent a weapon.

_Hide -D._

My mind races, everything falling into place. I rush over to the small fire I only put out, and relit, moments ago. I stamp out the flames hastily, the knife rattling in the container. I dart my eyes around, the ceiling lights just flickering ominously. My heart hammers against my ribcage, thump, thump, thump-

The doors swing open.

Every part of me runs cold. My blood turns into ice. My flesh becomes a layer of steel, cool and smooth. I throw myself to the floor and pull myself up against the bookcase, chest pressed against the dusty ledgers. Despite the confusion, I bend down, to peek through the shelves. A shadow moves in, followed by another, before the door slams shut.

"Let's see what this has." a feminine voice growls, freezing my heart. Temperance Clarion... I clench the dagger, but deep down, I know my chances are barely anything.

Hide? Darek should've said run. Or even pray.

* * *

**Corin Roscoe, District Nine Male.**

* * *

I fall behind as Temperance marches on ahead. For some reason, my will has been sapped away.

I know why, but it's always hard to come to terms with. It makes me feel... weak. Weak to know that a small space and darkness, like a cupboard, could bring back so many horrid memories. When I was... when I was trapped in there, I wasn't thinking about how I pissed off Temperance or if she would let me go at one point or another, I was thinking about his face, and his words laced with alcohol.

To everyone, we were the family to be envied. But behind those closed doors, he was distant and standoff-ish. When alcohol was involved, he was abusive, telling me how I killed my own mother, that I was such a poisonous child, it destroyed her body from within the womb. And then the cupboard came into effect. If I said - or did - something wrong, then I'd be thrown in there, sometimes for hours. Night would fall half the time and I'd sleep on the floor, curled up uncomfortably.

"Pay attention," Temperance's voice snaps me from the memories. "We need to make you into a man," she adds, with a subtle husky tone. "Which way?"

"Any." I shrug, no longer interested. The thought of my father makes me want to curl up into a ball, and disappear into nothing. Sometimes he could be so loving and generous, splashing out money on the most expensive items for me to brag about... but then he'd change in the snap of my fingers. It was hard, just me and him.

And the cupboard. Always the cupboard.

Temperance clicks her fingers in my face, snapping me out of it once more. "Which way?"

"Left," I answer. I follow her down the hall, until large doors appear. _Library_, the sign says. "In here?"

"I can smell the sense of fear in the air like a wolverine," Temperance clicks her tongue. "We go in here first, and then hunt. Someone is bound to be stupid enough to hide in here with the books, hoping to use the dust as a muting tone."

I never understand her. "Sure."

My shoulder throbs in pain as I push open the door. Temperance steps in, I follow, and then we shut it.

"Let's see what this has." she growls.

I look around, scanning the high ceiling and flickering lights. Nothing too standout. It looks like every other place, including the gymnasium. I just hope the lights won't go out fully. Darkness makes me uncomfortable.

Then something clatters.

Temperance is on high alert. She jabs her finger down an aisle, telling me to go down there. I sigh, pulling the glaive forward. I step down slowly, making sure to make my footsteps quiet. A part of me doesn't want to find someone. The other, larger part of me, wants to find and kill, just to speed the process up. Temperance won't be satisfied until blood is on my hands. I look over my shoulder, Temperance at the door, her arms crossed and her eyes narrow. Impatient, too.

I scan the aisles for the supposed tribute. I highly doubt someone is in here at all. As Temperance said, it's too stupid, and as idiotic some of these tributes are, I don't think they're brain dead.

Another noise. I stop, the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I balance the glaive out, the blade pointing maliciously.

I have to find and kill. If not, well... Temperance suspects. She doesn't know, but she suspects, and that's bad enough. She might try and lock me away again, for displeasing her, just like my father.

Outside, a bomb explodes, and a small shriek echoes through the room. "There!" Temperance howls.

I snap my eyes forward. Through the parted light, I see eyes, staring straight at me. They widen as realisation catches us. Without thought, I charge through the aisles towards her.

The girl screams as I lunge the glaive forward. The knife slides through the book with ease, before stopping. I drag it back, freeing the weapon. The tribute - a girl, from the softness of the eyes - scrambles to her feet, and runs the opposite direction. And by opposite direction, I realise, means that she's coming at me. I see the flash of silver before she plunges it forward. I barely have time to move, releasing the glaive as I jump back, slamming into the opposite bookcase.

Her moves are jerky. She's as scared and unsure as Aubrey was, before she almost bested me. Her eyes widen in terror and she makes a fatal mistake by looking over her shoulder.

I fly forward, quickly disarming her with something Temperance taught me. I flick her wrist and twist a finger, loosening her grip. The knife falls and clatters to the floor, the noise reminiscent of what we all heard earlier.

Her weapon practically exposed her.

I bend over and scoop it up. When the reality hits her, she steps back. I only then notice her as Angora, that Jute's district partner.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, just so she doesn't hear me. Angora spins and tries to run, but Temperance is there without a flash, forcing Angora down a dead end.

I pry my glaive from the paper, walking over to meet the battle. Temperance has her sword pointed at Angora's chest, the reaped girl crying and breathing heavily, pressed against the brick wall. I blink a few times, the sight surprisingly uncomfortable. "Well do it then," Temperance says. I swallow down the building nerves, twisting in my stomach. "Take her life. Become a man."

It's Temperance's words, but his voice I hear. Do this, and do that. You're this, and you're that. But no. No, I won't let this happen. He can't always control me, and make me feel... like a loser, like I'm worthless. It chipped away at my confidence. I shake away the emotions and thoughts again, ridding them from my mind. Obediently, I step forward, raising the bladed side of my glaive. I close my eyes and I plunge it forward.

I keep my eyes closed until the cannon resounds in the air. I pull the weapon free, open my eyes, and turn away. "Well done, Corin," she compliments me. "Your first kill. How does it feel?"

I want it to empower me. But, it just feels... abnormal. I can't say what, but it's not as repulsive nor enjoyable as I imagined it to be. I guess it's better to be without emotion over it. "Fine," I lie. "Now what?"

"We continue to hunt, of course. The wolves will feast tonight."

* * *

**Kiara Vaud, District Four Female.**

* * *

Caine stacks the easel against the door, effectively locking it. He turns, face stony. I bite the inside of my cheek as he briskly walks past us, desperate to help him out. He looks so upset, like Carnelian said, like I'm sure Calder is. It just isn't right. I curl my knees to my chest, shuffling towards Calder's side.

"Cheer up," I mumble, even though it's hard. It's hard because Haven... Haven was killed, and I don't know what to say or think. "Everything will be okay," I place my hand on his knee, and he tightens, like he wants to move. I recoil, a little dejected. "Sorry."

"It's not you, it's me," he sighs. "Don't feel hurt."

I swallow thickly, the question on my tongue. "Are you... are you upset about that picture? Do you know the girl?"

His eyes slip closed. "I don't want to talk about it, Kiara."

"But it's good to t-"

"No," he exclaims, eyes flying open. "I don't want to discuss it. Will you understand? It's..." the words trip him up, and he chokes a little. "I'm... I'm sorry..."

I smile sadly, though the sting burns through my flesh. "It's okay. Don't be upset. I'm sure... I'm sure..."

I don't know what to be sure about. There's nothing I can say? If he knows the girl, it's clear that she's dead, and no amount of words are going to make that any better. I could be here, like Carnelian suggested, to see if he'll open up, but that seems too far away. And I don't think Calder should wait that long. He's like a dam, and they always burst at some point. My hand moves to touch his knee again, but falls short.

He turns, smiling sadly. "You're always so kind."

I try and perk up a little, but the horrified images and the smell... it turns my stomach, and makes me frown. "I just want to see you happy," I admit, because it's all I ever tried to do. No amount of rejection would stop me. But it's becoming harder. "Mr Tripe always said my kind heart would get me killed."

"Mr Tripe?" Calder presses. "You mean the weird guy who runs the theatre?"

I blush heavily. "I like to act," I admit once more, surprised that it's me opening up, and not Calder. He's good. "Though I never got the spot I wanted," I carry on. "I always wanted to be the District Four girl, but he kept putting me in District Twelve, and I always died in the bloodbath. Gruesome most of the time, too."

And then Haven penetrates my brain once more, and a whimper escapes my throat. "Haven?" Calder cuts in. I nod weakly. "It's... it's going to get harder."

I open my mouth, to tell him that if it gets harder we have each other, but Carnelian abruptly stands. Everyone looks at him, his lips twisted into a frown. "We... we can't stay here. It's too creepy for my liking."

I know that feeling. And I guarantee Calder would agree too. "Where should we go?" I ask, not taking it personally. I wouldn't have suggested it if I knew... these were here.

"Caine has offered to go out and scout," Carnelian continues. I look at him knowingly; Caine isn't stable enough at the moment. His words, too. "I think someone should go with him."

"It's not necessary." Caine cuts in.

"I'll do it," Nelida stands. "Or we could split up. See who finds the better place first."

When I know Calder is about to stand too, I grasp his hand, keeping him down. He looks at me with confused eyes, but I just stare and stress my need for him to just... to just stay here, with me, where it's safe and I can keep an eye on him and... and he can protect me, like he's always done. And I can help him. District Four will stand tall together!

Nelida and Caine carefully move the easel, slipping out of the doors. When silence settles, Carnelian moves towards us.

"Hey," I wave slightly. "So will they come back and tell us where to go?"

Carnelian nods. "Caine is heading to the swimming pool, and Nelida is going to check out the indoor gardens," he moves his eyes to Calder, who doesn't exactly shrink under his watch, but seems uncomfortable. "So, Haven..."

I swallow thickly. I understand what he's doing - it's like a trust exercise, or something. We discuss a mutual problem, and help each other out. "I feel sick just thinking of what happened..." I start. "He... it was so sudden."

Carnelian smiles sadly. "We couldn't of done much else. No-one knew until it was too late," he carries on, but I can see the wear and tear in his face now. "And... we can only hope he's not in pain or something," he quickly bows his head. "Yeah."

"I think we should help them," Calder stands. I go to grab him once more, but remind myself that Calder is a grown teenager, and he doesn't need me... he probably doesn't want me either. I'm just the annoying kid. Mascot, like Hermes mentioned. I frown, looking away. "I'll go somewhere else. Like the ceramics room, or something. You two stay here and barricade the doors."

Despite being the leader, it's like everyone wants to give Carnelian a break. His first casualty. I'm sure the death is hitting him harder than he lets on, considering his need for perfection. As Calder leaves through another door - the one on the other side of the room, compared to Nelida and Caine - I crawl along the floor, pulling Carnelian's face up with my hand.

"We're suppose to be the positive ones," I say quietly, willing a smile on my face. "No matter what happens to them, we're suppose to be rays of sunshine," I laugh lightly. "You gotta cheer up. Please. We can't do this without you."

Carnelian sighs. "Whilst they're not here, we can be sad for a little while," he smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "It seems appropriate for Haven. Not being upset, it's like... it's like we're just tossing him aside."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders swiftly, pulling him into a hug. And Carnelian breaks instantly, choked cries being burned into my mind. Our great leader, broken. "I'll always be here. A little chirpy, annoying bird, that'll keep pecking away and making you smile." I add with a tight squeeze.

Because, deep down, I have to be that. I have to keep them smiling, otherwise it's over for us all.

* * *

**Jute Phillips, District Eight Male.**

* * *

I'm so focused on the cherub in my hands that I don't notice the ceiling lighting up, at least not until the anthem blares sharply.

Slowly, I look upwards, the first face morphing into the boy from District Five, Lyle... something. I don't remember his name. He was kind of nice, if I remember, at least from what I saw. Angora mentioned something about him once. For some reason, as much as I encourage sympathy to arise, I can't. I didn't know him so I can't mourn him. It just feels like a waste of life.

Then, it happens. The cherub-like figurine slips through my fingers, falling on my boot. I barely snap myself out of the trance to scoop it up, having to tear my eyes away from Angora's face. Was she one of the cannons from yesterday, or the one today? Or were all three today? Without a clock, you just can't tell. I haven't been to sleep yet, and my body always tells me when that is.

I silently mourn for Angora. She was from home, only one of the few things I can actually remember thoroughly. I guess without her curly-haired ally, she just wasn't strong enough.

The emotions clog up my throat, forcing me down. I let out a shaky breath as her face finally changes. I bend over, pick the Audrey-doll up, and watch as her district partner is the final face on the ceiling. District Ten is out of the running then. I wonder if the people are sad about the deaths, or just the fact that their chances of supplies has vanished?

A lump forms in my throat. I forgot that my family are watching... is Ramie berating the screen, telling the family that Jute is silly for staying here? I look up at the corner of the room, as if expecting to see a camera aimed towards me. Nettle would be cuddled into his side, and Coir wouldn't even know what is going on, or why I'm not there.

I miss them all. I miss each and every member of my family, even if I never showed it all the time. I just... I just forgot.

I shake my head, standing up. A bomb bounces the room around, and the remaining figurines are shattered on the floor.

I have to get out of here. Go where? I don't know... I don't know anything anymore... I collect the backpack, sliding it on my shoulder. I even tuck Audrey-doll into my shirt pocket over my heart, to keep her close. I don't know how to avenge her, but I forget her, not this time.

Slipping out of the room quietly, I remove the knife from the backpack and into my hand, just in an emergency. You never know...

I freeze in my tracks when I hear footsteps. I hold my breath, frozen on the spot. I'm like an animal trapped in headlights. I snap my head around, the many doors still shut. I look to the ceiling and then down the hallway, using what little knowledge Audrey told me. I wait... I wait...

The flickering lights showcase a shadow moving downwards.

Silently, I move forward, opening a door quietly. I slip in and shut it once more, hoping not to have made a sound. I don't want to be caught, not now, not when I'm about to make my move.

The shadow glides pass the window, and I throw myself to the floor, curling against the wood. I strain my hearing for the footsteps, hearing them walk away, before the door opens. My heart tells me that, whoever it is, they've just entered the ceramics room. If I had waited but a moment more, I would've been cornered. My heart plummets in my chest when I realise that I could've been killed. I grip the doorknob, keeping it firm. Maybe they'll think it's locked...

Then, like a flash, a door slams. My stomach twists and I grip the harder, barely seeing my knuckles turn white. The footsteps creak slowly, just passing the door.

My breath catches in my throat.

The doorknob jiggles, and I have to squeeze it closed, forcing the door to stay shut. The figure catches on, though, and suddenly a body is slamming into the wood.

Their strength overpowers me, and my hand is ripped from the brass handle. The door swings open, slamming into the frame.

The force throws me backwards onto my back. I fumble for the knife as the figure - revealed to be a boy, from some Career district - charges forward. Panic overrides my body as I slash out with the knife defensively, causing him to pause. Our eyes meet briefly, before he raises a hooked weapon, with a blade on the other end. He jabs forward, but I slide out of the way, natural instinct taking over. I've never been one to fight - that was Weft's job, when his topics of discussion were personal and overheard.

I slash out again as I roll on my side, attempting to get up. But he drops the weapon and jumps on my stomach, knees on either side. I slash again and again, but each swipe only cuts air.

With an easy force, he grasps my wrist and pins me down completely. The breath is knocked from my lungs as I shrink under his power.

"P-Please," I mutter, the words slipping out without thought.

He doesn't look, like, conflicted, but he seems sad. Downtrodden, even. He leans to the side for his weapon, still effectively keeping me down. And, in that small moment, I swear I see my eyes flash before my eyes. Calico leading me around like I'm some blind kid. Ramie with his intellectual mind, telling me that I can't just space out all the time. Or even little Coir, and his large, blue eyes.

No. No, I won't just give in easy, not when Audrey fought and I have everything to live for. Tears spring to my eyes and the adrenaline flushes through my veins.

Without even thinking, I free an arm from under his knee. It happens so fast, I'm surprised I managed to do it so fluidly.

I pluck Audrey-doll from my chest pocket, and with a slash of her clay wings, I cut a fine line across his cheek. The boy hisses, confused, and I thrust all of my weight into my arms to shove him to the side. He tumbles to the floor, quickly scrambling for his weapon.

But I'm up and out the room within seconds, abandoning my backpack. My fight or flight instinct just stays on flight as I barrel down the halls. Somehow, in the pit of my stomach, I know he won't chase after me. I begin to slow down when the stitch in my chest becomes too much. I clutch Audrey-doll harder in my palm, her right wing chipped and stained red.

She's all I have. But I need to find others.

* * *

**Tierna Rowe, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

Excitement builds in my chest as we reach our destination. Sienna proudly throws the door opens, and a wave of acid hits my nostrils.

Sienna's lips turn into a frown. "I don't think pools are suppose to smell like that."

Slowly, we step in, and the smell becomes obvious. My heart sickens when I see the pool, water looking stale. It doesn't look as pretty as I imagined. In fact, when you look down to the bottom, you can see green moss growing in the corners, or ugly cracks that ruin the intricate tile patterns on the pool floor. It was suppose to be nice... and it just looks as ruined as everything else does.

Saddened, I peel my eyes away, to study the large room. The pool takes the most focus, but I can see showers in the corners for each gender, and a supply closet on the side.

"Well this is impressive," Onatah adds with a cynical tone. "Looks like everywhere is rotten or ruined," she continues. "Effects of war, and all."

I hear Sienna growl, but turn away. I can't stand the fighting. I mean, if it was just one person, I could. My temper is very short... and part of me wants to blow up at the pair of them for being selfish, always bickering, but then I don't want to further the divide. It takes all of my restraint to stay at the side, away from it all. "We didn't know this, though," Sienna argues. "We thought it might be safe!"

Onatah scoffs. "Nowhere in this school is safe," she moves away from us, towards the showers at the back of the room. "This is an arena, not a field trip." she turns, holding out her weapon, the light glowing on her now crooked jaw.

I bite the inside of my cheek, studying the pair of them. With the pool between them, it's unlikely that anything is going to happen. But Sienna's posture is rigid, whilst Onatah seems to be mocking her without actually doing or saying anything. Maybe Sienna just takes things too personally. "Let's not fight," I choke out, the emotions flooding my insides. I'm literally about to burst if they carry this on. "We're an alliance, a team. We shouldn't be arguing all the time!" I scream the last part, just to make a point.

I regret my words. It's growing again...

Instantly, the pair grow silent. Onatah looks at me with a knowing smirk - or a smile, depending on what her jaw is doing - and nods. "Tierna is right. You really need to get over yourself, Sienna."

I clench my fists as Sienna growls again. "You need to get off your high horse!" I sigh, walking away. "Tierna, where are you going?"

"Supply closet." I mumble.

I carefully twist the doorknob, but it's locked. I jiggle some more, desperate to see what's inside. At least, I think that's why I'm doing this. It doesn't help that the pair of them are pushing me too far. I chose them because I thought we'd get on, I'd be able to avoid awkward conversations or bouts of depression and darkness, but no, no they're just like the people I wanted to avoid, for my sake.

"Can anyone find a key? It won't open." I call out.

"It's hanging up there," Sienna replies. "To your left."

She's right. I look to my left and pluck the key from the stand, jabbing it into the lock. With a twist and a flick, the door swings open.

And, of course, there's nothing of importance in here. A few water equipment, like I've seen been handed out during some arenas that involve open waters. A javelin or two, and some rubber arm things. Nothing dangerous, but nothing useful either. I slam the door shut, spinning around. "Calm down," Sienna smiles softly. "You'll make too much noise, and then we'll be found too soon."

I didn't even realise I made the noise. A blush creeps on my face and I look away. "Sorry."

"I'm going to check the showers," Onatah joins in. "Keep an eye out for me."

Sienna simply rolls her eyes. I don't even know why she continues this grudge. It's rather childish, if you ask me, but I guess that's just something Sienna does. We stand around, awkward, the annoying lights still flickering overhead. I mean, they even hang over the swimming pool, which can't be safe. Out of curiosity, I begin to walk, attempting to find the source. Maybe we can turn them off? Darkness in here - as much as I hate it - would be the best cover possible.

That, and going in the water. Though the thought doesn't please me as much anymore.

As I reach the door, I don't expect to find anyone. It happens so fast though. A hard hand grapples my hair, and a cold weapon touches my throat. I fly back instantly as the weapon slices down my chest - just missing a deadly strike - as the fiery sensation overwhelms me. I stagger backwards as Caine from District Two is revealed, his eyes wide in shock.

Spots dot my vision, but hands are suddenly on me. I go to scream, only realising that it's Sienna. "Onatah!" she shouts.

Onatah is soon with us, her face flushed red. Everything spirals in my mind, making me sick and dizzy... and... and confused. My knees buckle, blood spilling over my shirt. I glance down, despite everything inside protesting. It doesn't... it could just be the blood that makes it look worse... I'm not dead - I miss a sliced throat, after all - but it doesn't help with... with the pain...

In an instant, Sienna flies forward, a sword in her hand. Caine counters the deadly weapon with his larger sword, the spit of metal bouncing around the hollow room.

Onatah gently lays me down, but she doesn't need to. I have no fight in me to counter the pain... I'd rather just lay down, and let it slip away.

And then I see her join the fray, now that Sienna is easily being overpowered. I swallow thickly, my tongue suddenly furry. I swallow again and again, and I have to remind myself that I'm not going to die, the wound wasn't even that deep. With shaking hands that won't quit, I pop open a button, tracing the wound with my finger. It's barely above skin. Nothing more... than a scratch. But it's caked in blood.

Darkness curls at the edge of my vision, taunting me. Onatah somehow manages to make Caine try harder, but even with two people, Caine is trained. He basically bats them away like pesky flies.

Sienna hits the ground, her weapon skittering away. She doesn't get back up. Onatah counters, but she's tossed up against the wall, a crunch breaking the heated fight. Crumpling, our eyes meet, but Caine easily blocks the view.

I can't... I can't hold on much longer. It's like a warm embrace is waiting for me. I slip into the comfort, and my eyes close.

And that's when a cannon sounds, another one losing their life.

* * *

**Castle Of Glass by Linkin Park.**

* * *

**T****he blog for this story is_ ffyl hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**Angora Knight, District Eight.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Hearts, Angora was a very realistic character. Sweet, but without fight or much will. She was caught between a rock and... well, a Temperance.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**_POV that stood out?_**

**_Who do we think died at the end there? :o_**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**So... who died? :o**

**Doesn't necessarily mean that Tierna has died. Doesn't necessarily mean that she hasn't died. It's all up in the air.**

**I miss cliffhangers. I'm going to do them more often.**

**So, yeah. Things are now starting to kick off. You can expect things to continue to spiral, considering that we're over halfway with the story (but that's including the epilogue, so.)**


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